Life is Perfect
by Kampilan
Summary: A collection of oneshots featuring Shizuru and Natsuki. Chapter 8: Fire Fly Down
1. Chapter 1: Life is Perfect!

**LIFE IS PERFECT!**

* * *

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The cherry blossoms had already started to bloom. With every strong gust of wind that shook the marvelous trees; it seemed that the whole city would be buried in a beautiful sea of different shades of pink leaves. For it was the season of life as many a poet would call it and the trees had bloomed so beautifully this year that even the old man who was removing the fallen leaves from his yard could not help thinking that it was such a waste to throw these pretty things away.

'_May I not drown in this sea of pink', _Natsuki said to herself as she walked towards the tall antique building of the university. She had been dismissed early today for some reason she did not care to understand. Hearing the words "Classes are suspended" was enough for her, and she was in fact the first one to grab her backpack and exit the school's premises without objection. She stood up and walked away from her rusty old Ducati in a fast paced manner, towards the entrance of the university. She passed the erect bronze oblation, walked across the solemn halls, passed door after door, classroom after classroom until she reached her destination: a quaint classroom with aged cream colored walls filled with a hundred vandalisms about nasty professors and many 'I love you Fujino sensei's which were written in black and red pentel pen ink.

-

"The modern criminal justice system delays the implementation of capital punishment as compared to the immediate execution of capital punishment during earlier times. Does this delay have some effect in the efficiency of capital punishment in maintaining social order and in preventing crime?"

"I think so, Fujino sensei." Came the meek reply.

"Ara…then please cite empirical evidence, Satoshi san."

"I believe the news reports speak for themselves, sensei."

"How about during the second world war, Satoshi-san? Did you not consider life during war time? It cannot be denied that poverty drives even young children to commit heinous crimes such as petty theft. And did the implementation of severe capital punishments during those times lessen the crime rate?"

-

Creeakkk! The old, wooden door swung open and Natsuki stepped in. Her blue sneakers squeaked against the white marble floor of the classroom.

"It seems that we have a new student!"

"I'm just going to 'sit-in'," She replied as she glared at Shizuru. '_What is this woman up to – AGAIN?!' _

"Mhmm. That's perfectly fine. But please introduce yourself." _Fine! She thought to herself. So she wants to play teacher eh? I'll stick around for a little while. _

"Kuga Natsuki from the Department of Physical Sciences and Mathematics," She replied huskily as she searched the room for a vacant seat. _Aha! Third row, fifth column. _

"Welcome to my POLSCI 14 class, Kuga-san!" Shizuru happily announced as Natsuki sat down on the dark green desk. Natsuki dropped her black bag pack to her right as she fixed eyes with her temporary 'sensei'.

-

She glanced at the four corners of the weather-beaten classroom; and scrutinized every single crack on the walls that her vision swept. She laughed inwardly at the desperate vandals of 'I love you Fujino-sensei's' and privately cursed all the love-struck faces of the pathetic students who sat up straight on their chairs and nodded intensely whenever Shizuru passed them. Inside their hearts, there was always this faint hope that the very beautiful Fujino-sensei would notice them and by some miracle fall in love with them.

'_Dream on you crazy little fucks', _She hissed at them while Shizuru gracefully wrote short lecture notes on the boards. Shizuru went on babbling and writing until it was 3:30 and the students bid their gorgeous sensei: '_sayonara Fujino-sensei!' 'Take care alright?'_ to which the ever perfect Shizuru Fujino would reply to with a gentle 'Ookini' or a 'take care to'.

She knew that Shizuru was hers and hers alone, but still the fangs of jealousy sunk deeply into her heart whenever Shizuru would smile sweetly at her fans. She argued that it was: _'A psychological effect of losing everyone and everything that I held important!'_ : A hypothesis that Shizuru always disproved by the simple antithesis: _But I am still here._

Shizuru turned around to face her; the brown chestnut locks swirled due to the gust of warm summer air that whistled through the slits of the windows, the lavender dress flowed and shaped to the voluptuous curves of that lithe, fit body.

"Natsuki." A toothy smile – a smile that shone of pure, sweet, sweet love. That's right…that smile was hers and hers alone. That smile was flashed for her only.

-

* * *

-

Traffic was a killer. The main road was filled to bursting with cars that were seemingly infinite in number, so Natsuki made a sharp turn by the corner, towards the shortcut were the sharp, small pebbles of the unfinished pavement battered the motor bike's tires. Soon the rickety ride ended and they were once again sailing smoothly across the hard, dark, sea of cement; passing towering buildings as they zoomed through the urban jungle.

As the home bound journey progressed, the fortress like buildings shrunk into quaint, dainty apartments, and then later, the apartments were reduced to sorry excuses for refuges that certainly would not pass as safe bomb shelters. They stopped by a parking lot took their helmets off and walked towards their small, aged, three story apartment.

The two women entered the wretched establishment, climbed the creaking earthquake ravaged stairs up – Up! Towards the third floor – second door from the right whereupon Shizuru took out the keys from her wallet and opened the door.

Natsuki instantly slumped on the dusty lavender sofa and Shizuru sat by her side and stroked the tired, weary head that gently rested itself on her lap.

-

"You know Shizuru, I seriously hate it when you act as if I'm a complete and total stranger," She grimaced upon remembering the sea of pathetic, smiling faces that were on the verge of swooning whenever Shizuru innocently giggled in front of them.

"Is that so? My…And I thought you were enjoying yourself. So how was my lecture?", Shizuru asked with a devilish smile on her face.

"Honestly, I don't give a rat's ass about anything that you said. But still, you were good."

"Ookini, Natsuki." She bent down and gave the reddening cheeks under her a sweet peck.

"How was school?" Shizuru asked as she continued to stroke the raven colored tresses that formed swirl patterns on her rose colored skirt.

"Terrible. I went to class for nothing. Everyone joined the rally at the American Embassy so classes got suspended."

"Ahh yes…That rally. Many of the Political Science majors absented from the classes of the other professors, but surprisingly, all my classes have perfect attendance."

"It's you that the students are after! Not the lecture!"

"Ara…well I suppose I should be flattered by that," Natsuki rolled on her side to face Shizuru, whose beautiful facade was hovering above her like a goddess in the skies, "But then I don't know if I should be offended that it's me that they're after and not my lectures."

"They're after you because you're pretty and smart and because you're an excellent professor who makes the most complicated subjects graspable."

-

Shizuru gently lifted Natsuki's head off of her lap then brought it down to rest on the sofa before she stretched her own body on the soft sofa to lie down beside the most important person in her life. And then she was face to face with the person she chose to spend her life with – and even eternity: if life after death truly exited. And she pressed herself against that warm, warm body that took her in with arms wide open – sharing the sofa and wet, passionate kisses as the heat of afternoon sun seeped through the window's broken glass and through the holes on the tattered roof, just as the seething heat of desire seeped from their bodies and drenched them in each others' sweat as they continued to kiss each other whilst locked in sweet passion's embrace.

-

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* * *

It was a moonless night and the neon colored signs and stoplights glittered triumphantly as the city veiled itself with the night's shroud of darkness. The city smelled of a hundred burnings: the salty scent of fried street food, the contagious vapors that vehicles excreted, the white smoke of the cigars that people exhaled as they walked on the shaded pavements and crossed the shadowy streets.

"_Kami_ no..." Shizuru said in disbelief.

"Shizuru what is it?" Natsuki asked with in a worried tone.

"What the fuck?! We only have 2,000 yen in our bank account?! Seriously?!"

"Hai, Natsuki. We're seriously bankrupt."

-

The wind blew against their faces in mockery as it took away the receipt from Shizuru's pallid hand. Natsuki wanted to throw her tantrums at the blasted ATM Machine: the herald of poverty, but Shizuru stopped her by insisting that she was hungry although the truth was that the dreadful news ruined her appetite. Nevertheless, they walked back towards the parking lot

"We're broker than ever! Holy shit! We've been broke for the past four years but shit we were never THIS broke!"

"Calm down, love. I'm sure we'll get through this. My monthly wage is due next week."

"This is all his fault! H-he was supposed to take care of me until I graduated from college –Oh! That stupid, useless fuck!"

"Forget about him, Natsuki. He isn't the only one who has neglected his own daughter…"

"Selfish, dirty asshole! He left me and my mother and ran away with some ugly bitch, getting fat, fat, fat along the way. I bet his gorging himself with his ill-gotten wealth right now while his fucking that ugly-"

"Now, now…Natsuki let's not spoil our evening."

"Oh shit…now I'll have to work on fucking holidays just to get a raise."

-

* * *

They drove through the streets; passed familiar buildings as the rusty old ducati zoomed through the dusky streets of the city. The neon lights blinked at them as the city glowed furiously in electric glory. They raced through the night, through the conundrum that is life; searching for solutions, asking rhetorical questions: _'why us?' 'Where did we go wrong?', 'how?'_ as a million '_should've would've could've's _chased their sanity, and questioned their consciences through that short ride home.

The scent of a million burnings clung to their bodies as they wearily climbed up fragile stairs of their cheap apartment. The scents released themselves and wafted in the dusty air of the dusty room as the two women entered the small space with heavy hearts and clogged minds.

A somber silence fell over them as they gazed at each other with unblinking eyes.

_'Shit!' _- A silver spring tore its away across the white cotton guts of the jumped and gashed through the lavender skin as Natsuki quickly sat down on it's dusty body.

Shizuru carefully sat beside Natsuki and cautiously awaited for another spring to come forth. But only small particles of dust made their presences known when her body finally rested on the sofa.

-

"Natsuki," Shizuru said as she snuggled closer to her adorable Natsuki.

"Shizuru, do you regret all of this?"

"All of what? What exactly are you talking about?"

"This relationship…we were so young, so careless…we thought the world should just go and fuck itself and we rendered ourselves vulnerable to all it's venomous shit."

"Natsuki…everything – every bad thing that happened was unexpected. I did not expect my mother to slap me and disown me when she realized that I was a lesbian."

"And I thought…I thought that Dad cared for me…that he would at least wait for me to finish college before he would stop providing for me…I-"

"Everything was unexpected."

"We should have waited! We should have contained our feelings until we were ready to stand on our goddamn feet!"

...

Silence.

...

"You're saying it's my entire fault, then." Shizuru said toneless as she gently pushed herself away from Natsuki.

"I never said that!" She tried to pull Shizuru back. But the brunette was now standing by the glassless window pane; staring out in the dark, moonless night.

"But I was the first to-"

"And I said I love you to! I also admitted! I wasn't able to contain my feelings to! So…so it's not your fault, Shizuru…it's not."

"I'm sorry, Shizuru…"

"None of this was our fault, right?" Natsuki continued as she walked towards Shizuru.

-

But there was the guilt again – and it was knock, knock, knocking on the doors of her mind like the devil himself when one has done something so horribly wrong and the red, pointy-tailed bastard just keeps reminding the sinner that he is damned, damned to burn in hell and suffer! And this thought haunts the sinner throughout his dreadful life. Shizuru knew deep within herself that she was simply denying their errors, that she was using all her logic and political theories to justify their careless, immature little blunder._Kami_! It was as if she had never heard of the word homophobia! She acted as if she had her parents – those 'well bred' and virtuous people in Kyoto, where not homophobic, that they did not detest same sex relationships.

But she thought about it once more, as she relished the sweet luscious lips that were kissing her with much fervor. She arched her back against the pleasurable caresses of Natsuki's fingers.

And she realized as she stared into the teary viridian eyes underneath her - that she knew it all along! That she never shunned her eye at her parents' bigotry. She merely hoped, wished, prayed with all her heart that they would learn to love, they would learn to accept her and her dear, dear, beautiful Natsuki, who was now panting aloud in the darkness of the room as she sucked on the delicate flesh of the younger woman's neck tenderly.

And what was wrong? How could these sweet, sweet sensations be wrong? How can love be evil? How can love be twisted? And she realized as she sank her fingers into the slick, velvet folds of Natsuki's womanhood, that they we're indeed innocent!

For when was the truth ever false? When was reality ever a lie? And she kissed passionately – hungrily. She drank down the moans that came out of the wine tasting lips underneath her and inhaled the delicate scent of femininity as she trusted her digits in and out of that searing core.

And is not denial the same as lying? and isn't lying considered to be an heinous sin? Why it was atrocious to paint another picture of reality and show it to the cold, cruel, judgmental world and pretend - pretend that she was someone else! And to deny such pure, such sweet, such true romantic love was to damn oneself! to damn oneself! And Natsuki drowned the guilt - that false guilt away with her kisses and with her moans.

_"Ah! Ahh! Ahhh...Shi-Shizuru!!"_

-

And the night was still young, and the city of a million deadly sins continued to burn in electric glory and the humid winds howled like wolves as they blew across the city. The winds whistled through the broken windows and glassless window panes, seeped from the cracks on the brick walls of the room while multicolored alien-neon lights oozed from the holes of the tattered roof; illuminating the dust and turning it into candy fireflies with it's artificial radiance.

"I'll be teaching up to six o'clock from now on, okay? more classes means more money."

"Mhmm..." Natsuki purred into Shizuru's right ear.

The termites gnawed on the antique wooden floors of the apartment and the rats nibbled on the left over sardines by the kitchen's counter as their eight unwashed clothes waved like water as the summer winds entered the room through the glassless window panes. But neither one of them minded, for both were too busy listening to each others' breathing and each others' heart beat. The darkness of the room, of the dirt-caked walls, embraced the two lovers as the lights of the sinful city and the shadows of the scattered unpaid bills danced upon their naked, sweat covered bodies- locked in passion's sweet embrace.

Now they had lost everything and they had but themselves to cling unto. And the world had conspired against them: drowning them when it rained and burning them when it was sunny. And dreams were shattered, dreams were lost, childhood visions fluttered away into the wind like dust mites. Nothing turned out the way they wanted to but still had each other - to love and to love more and more until the conundrum that is called life passes!

And Life was Perfect.

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	2. Chapter 2: Spilling Indian

I own nothing but a soul and warm cup of fucking good Kape Barako…ahh! Filipino grown coffee is the best! Mai HIME belongs to the evil bastards at Sunrise. Oh, and Matalim is mine and mine alone.

Dedication: To Kieli; remover of my doubts; fuel of my writer ego. Maraming Salamat for everything. You are, without a doubt, amongst Bathala's greatest creations.

I could not resist the urge to rewrite it. I felt that I made them look TOO poor in the previous chapter and indeed, I DID. SO I hope this makes up. No, no happy endings. Another day in the life of Kuga and Fujino AS COLLEGE STUDENTS.

* * *

-

**SPILLING INDIAN INK ON CREATIVE WRITING CLASS**

**-**

**-**

**-**

To love the unreachable, the untouchable, the strange, the eccentric, the bitter, the cold, the unloving, the unmoving, the vengeful, the ethereal was to love without regret, without remorse, loyally, faithfully, perpetually, foolishly, passionately, religiously, and unconditionally.

And the more that she was out of sight, the lesser she appeared before her, the more unfathomable and unattainable she grew; the more romantically, the more loyally, the more the more the more the MORE she fell in love with her.

Her hair was Indian ink spilling on a thin pale sheet of paper. Her face was a painting.

She closed her eyes and wallowed into the abyss of her hair; drowning her senses in the darkness of the raven tresses while the scent of her delicate femininity entwined with the fragrance of the rose flavored shampoo ascended into her nostrils and exploded in her head like with a loud:

**"SHIZURU!"**

Her eyes fluttered open. She was still surrounded by black.

There was struggling.

"Why must you always sneak up on me?!

She did not have a proper sensible reply. So she simply smiled her ever perfect, charming smile. She was never romantic. And due to this, Shizuru often had her doubts. _'Do you dream of me? Do you still adore me? Are you still mine?'_ She kept all of this to herself though. For she did not want to start a ruckus and since she did not have any empirical evidence (she preferred calling it empirical, being a man of science and logic) to prove her thesis.

But of course, doubt is as natural as the existence of any other emotion. And try as she may, it refused to leave her head.

* * *

"Miss Fujino, your head seems to be up in space today."

The common distraction: a voice that tells you your name. She turned her head to her right; towards that occupied little cubicle.

"This is very strange…" The same voice. The same person. And she was staring at the person who had a sly expression on her face – the sharp features, the brown south-east Asian skin, the eagle eyes. She stared at the black orbs that that stared at her crimson ones. A sigh. _'haayy…'_ she shook her head inwardly and returned to her proper, usual, cogent self.

"I-I'm sorry Matalim-han, I was thinking about my thesis." She responded with a gentle nod.

"Arya…Lost in that stuff again? There's more to life than academics. Think about that crap for a few more hours and I assure you, you'll go NUTS." Matalim was straightening her red sarong. Shizuru adored this co-teacher for her eccentricity. Whenever she spoke to Matalim, she felt as if she was talking with a strange character from a history book. The woman was unique in every aspect: the pure Filipino look; untouched by centuries of colonialism, the foreign accent that rivaled her own, and that roquish, devil may cry attitude.

"Matalim sensei is being cruel."

"No I'm not…think of me as Socrates and your Plato. And Plato, I philosophize that the goodness that man possesses is not measured by his academic standing, instead it is his ability to function properly despite the tediousness of his scholarly tasks. Now go eat that shit and come back at 3:00 when your Political theory class starts, alright?"

"How about you?" She asked.

"Me? I'm going out for lunch. Jesus Christ…5'1 and standing at 90 pounds. I need to eat more Shizuru." Matalim stood up and adjusted the small round glasses on her face with her index finger.

FWAP. A gentle gust of wind. Falling white petals filled with writings.

"Arya…Clumsy, clumsy me…" And Matalim bent down to pick up the papers scattered all over the white, marble floors of the faculty room. Shizuru stood up from her seat and knelt next to her co-teacher. She began to pick up the papers; her long finger nails scratching the ground as she did so. Her eyes scanned the short works of prose. She skimmed through the names and the courses of the students as she picked all. Of. Them. Up. One. By. One.

She stood up and arranged the papers neatly on top of another; tapping the sides gently until the papers where pressed and piled up against one another like a pack of cards. She fixed her lavender jacket and patted the dust off of her black skirt. _'Ara…something's on my leg.'_ And she bent down to remove the offending object when suddenly the electric fan blew it into Matalim's face; covering those sharp, pretty features with its white body. And so she had the chance to read the name and catch a glimpse of the short poem written on it by: Kuga, Natsu-

"Drat! Trying to kill me you crazy lifeless bastard?!" And Matalim ungracefully removed the paper off of her face with her right hand.

"What is that, Matalim-han?"

"A poem…a student of mine wrote it for my Creative Writing class during Wednesdays. You'd like to read it? Yes? Well here you are. I find it hilarious though. That girl has never written anything worthy of being regarded as a piece of poetry. This is her best one, I think."

She did not skim it. She read it gently.

And her mind was now paper: _Papyrus - Sacred paper to be imprinted with sacred words. _

She began to read: _The master's brush is being dipped in Indian Ink._

_-  
_

KUGA, Natsuki | Department of Physical Sciences and Mathematics

CW 1 TBA 3:00-4:30 pm; T-F

-

You are the princess;

And I am the frog.

Kiss me

Gently

And wait;

To find out

.

.

That I am

Still a Frog.

And her mouth whispered the words – those sweet, silly, silly, little words into her mind as if it were a chant, a prayer, praise, a psalm! And each word was like a gentle, soothing stroke of the brush! And the Indian Ink melted into the papyrus! Completely binding itself into the paper so that even though the tides, the cruel, cruel, waters of time should seek to destroy, to drench the papyrus in their hellish depths, the ink may be washed away but yet- YET! Tints of it remain on the fabric! And no memory, no amount of time nor distance shall wash away these sweet words and the one who wrote them away from her mind!

"Is this the only paper that you asked your students to submit?" She asked as she tried her best to suppress the giggle that begged to escape her throat.

"No, they've submitted three poems and one very cheesy essay since our first meeting." Matalim replied as she stretched her arms upward.

"Can I read them?"

"Oi…don't mess with my students, Miss Perfect, or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Kyoto."

"Ara. I won't. I was never an evil critic and I certainly will never be one." She laughed.

"Point taken." Matalim chuckled as she searched her typhoon ravaged table for - _Aha! Red folder filled to bursting with papers…come to moi! _

"Here. Just be sure to return the files to this cabinet after reading them. I left the other poems at home sooooo..yeah, be contented with the essay. Okay? Well I'm off to fill my empty digestive tract. Want anything? A burger? Fries? Fucking Japanese food to content your Japanese diet?"

"Racist. No, ookini, Matalim han." She hugged the folder like a teddy bear and sat back on her rotating chair with poise.

"Chillax." And Matalim skipped outside of the faculty room and walked out into the open halls where the heat of the afternoon sun turned her aircon-chilled skin electric.

--

'_Hiroya Takemura…Tomoyo Takahiro…Ben Zayb…Keiko Serizawa…Ezra Cariaga…mhmmm…Tennoji Shion…Ara! Kuga Natsuki! Here you are my precious, precious love…'_

_-_

_-  
_

KUGA, Natsuki | Department of Physical Sciences and Mathematics

CW 1 TBA 3:00-4:30 pm; T-F

-

"Death, Beauty and Rebirth"

-

Death, as many would call it, is the greatest, the most just, the most powerful equalizer on earth. Many would even argue that it is unbeatable and at the same inevitable and that death is the huge, red, period that ends human life in a flash. And all the decisions made, all the hours wasted cannot be relished and relived, and all the mistakes, no matter how gargantuan or tiny they may be cannot be reversed for as they say, death is DEATH. Death is the period. Blank. The End. The Finale Sayonara and in that split second when the soul is torn from it's mortal coil by the unseen force called death, one can only weep bitter or happy tears and welcome the incoming fate with open arms.

I beg to differ, though. For once, I have stared at death face to face. And in those split seconds, what I saw was not darkness. Not the abyss, not the fiery inferno where sinners burned endlessly, and certainly not golden heaven where angels sand choir upon choir rejoicing over the triumph of goodness over evil. No. It was a different kind of paradise or perhaps, the epitome of paradise on earth. In death, I saw beauty that bordered between the etherealness of a goddess and that of all the earth's richness.

And they say that Death is cold. And poets would even compare it to a blade; unfeeling, screaming to taste one's flesh with its bloody point.

But believe me; believe a person who has died and lived again, that death is warm. Warmer than sweet summer days when one awakens to that delicious, dreamy feeling of sheer bliss. In death, I stared into otherworldly ethereal eyes that I have neglected when I awoke underneath the sun's scorching heat and slept under the moon's cold luminosity. And it is in those sheer delicious moments of dying that I witnessed the unfolding of true beauty beneath my arms and felt the warmth of romance's angel wings wrap around me. It is only in death that I felt alive.

And so to death, I am most grateful. For If I never died, then I would never have met the love of my life. Or my life itself. It is only in death that I realized that I had a reason to live. And although I welcomed death with open arms; awaiting for the cold to consume my being. It never occurred. And I died to live. I lived to love.

-

* * *

-

And it was night.

The empty boxes of takeout food lingered on the kitchen counter; swaying to the tune of Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu. Shizuru was wiping the wooden table clean of all the tid bits of noodles that Natsuki dropped. _'Great lover…Messy eater'_ She pouted as she turned her head towards the messy eater who was now noisily beating the laptop's keyboard with her furious fingers. The drum beat of the keys was accompanied by several grants and _'No no no! that's not right!'_

"What're you doing?" She asked as she walked towards the sink where the red take out boxes swayed to get her attention.

"Homework…" _Tip-tap-tack-tackatack…tiiiiicckkkkkk _"NO NO NO! that's not right!"

"For what class?" She asked as she grabbed the boxes and threw them into the nearby wastebin.

"Math 17." Tick-tack-a-tack-tack-a- BLAG! She slammed her right fist against the table in frustration. "NO NO NO! That's not right!"

"Ara...how do you fare in the realm of Algebra and Trigonometry?" She washed her hands by the sink; the faucet creating a mini waterfall for her. She made splashy sounds while the faucet hissed like a snake.

"I'm sinking." Natsuki grunted.

"I can help you with that. Come on, show me your assignment." She said as she dried her hands with a clean blue towel.

"NO! Thank you but I can answer it!" Natsuki stood up and used her body to block the lap top's screen.

"You're going to drown so let me save you." Shizuru approached her. Natsuki scanned the cracked walls of their apartment. _'Wow she can really clean up this cesspool of a room…' _yesterday the walls were caked with dirt. But Shizuru came home early today and with her trusty cleaning tools: a mop, a few rags and good old soap, the ragged apartment was cleansed of every little dust mite and mud cake that covered its cracked walls. _'Well…at least they're clean now…Oh no! ! I forgot to buy glasses for the win_-' **"Natsuki!**" _'Arghh…baka!'_

-

"Natsuki stop hiding your homework from me." And Shizuru was standing before her with flashing crimson eyes. Natsuki gasped audibly as Shizuru crossed her arms in front of her. Natsuki began to sweat in her grey shirt as she twitched toe after toe and finger after finger in anxiety.

"Kuga-han, be a good little girl for me and show me your – Ooof!" And they were now lying on the sofa with Shizuru struggling vainly underneath Natsuki.

"Natsuki!" She squeeked as Natsuki's warm hands crawled on her spine; raising her blouse as they massaged the tensing muscles underneath the porcelain skin. She felt the coldness of the sofa's velvety skin seep on her bare back. She gasped as a tongue began to lap the sensitive skin on her throat like a dog.

"Gomen sensei…but Kuga-han feels a little…naughtier than usual…" Natsuki breathed hungrily into her ear as her right hand traveled from the back, on her abdomen and up, up into the moist valley between her breasts; feeling the beating heart sheathed by the ribs.

"Ikezu…" And they were kissing gently. And then passionately – savagely as if they were to devour each other's beings. And the Indian Ink spilled all over Shizuru's face as she lunged forward to caress the erect nipples of her love with her tongue. The white bed sheets were a canvas – they were the artwork; making love with such fervor, with such passion that the moon seemed to glow furiously for them as it shone above like a silver disk.

"Shi-Shizuru! S-stop!" Natsuki was panting aloud; the Indian Ink was now spilled on the white canvas: forming swirl over swirl, pattern over pattern as Shizuru trusted her fingers into her gently; stroking the slick, burning walls of her womanhood as it probed her gently; soothingly – like an artist creating a work of art! Indian Ink on canvas!

"What…were you doing…Natsuki?" Shizuru asked in a seductive tone as she probed the searing crevice with three fingers slowly.

"M-math…Ah! Ahh Shizuru Please stop! Ahh! I-I can't…Ah!" Natsuki arched her back and allowed the Indian Ink to create more intricate patterns on the canvas. _Art Noveau_

"Liar…"

"N-no..please…Ahh! Shi-Shi..zu…ru...aahh!" The thrusting was faster, harder, more pleasurable! And Natsuki scrunched her eyes as she took in each and every pleasurable sensation that coursed through out her body: the mouth suckling on her breasts, the hand that roamed and massaged her buttocks, the hand that entered her – that filled her empty, pulsating core.

"Natsuki…Natsuki…Natsuki…" She was closer, nearing the edge! The finality! The reality! The crescendo! The completion of the work of art! The Elysian Fields of ecstac-

-

"**NATSUKI KUGA!!!!" **

**-  
**

The same voice. The same person. And she was staring at her with a sly expression on her face – the sharp features, the brown south-east Asian skin, the eagle eyes. She stared at black orbs that that stared at her viridian ones.

And she was no longer in bed and it was no longer night! No! A thousand times no! She was in her classroom: room 204, 2nd floor, GAB Building! And it was morning: exactly 10:00 a.m and the sun shone brightly over the heavens like an angry god so they had turned the airconditioner into high cool. And she slumped into her seat like a snail; allowing the memories – the sweet, lustful memories of last night to pass by.

"MISS KUGA! Harharhar! Avast lass! Prepare to be sent down into the depths of Davey Jones' locker!" Matalim was waving a pen in front of Natsuki like a rapier and the strange young professor stood as if she were fencing with Natsuki.

"Matalim sen-"

"Arr!! I asked ye a question lass and yet ye still keeps em' mouth shut like no ones askin'!" BLAG! She punched the blackboard.

'_I hate pirate-talk day…'_ Natsuki's eyes rolled in annoyance. "Sorry sensei but could you please repeat the question?"

"Ay-ya-ya! Miss Kuga! What program are you enrolled in?" Matalim asked with an impish smile on her face.

"Biochemistry, sensei." Natsuki replied sheepishly; the huskiness of her voice remained but the tone was soft and apologetic.

"Well I was never good in math and technical crappity crap Kuga san. But Christ, don't you need a fairly good attention span in order to pass your majors?" Matalim asked with a raised eyebrow. _'This is soo….highschool…'_ Natsuki slurred to herself as her mind was clouded with thoughts of Shizuru and doves and their likeness to feminine napkins.

"Ahoy now garrly!!! answer yer cap'n or I'll make ya walk…" WHAP! Matalim slapped the table loudly with her right hand "- zeh Plank!" She continued with a growl as she extended her left hand and pointed to the door.

"Hai, sensei."

-

But Matalim just shook her head. Natsuki was simply glad to have the whole lecture over.

"Now…let's get down to business! Everyone! I want to read a one page paper from you! Make it look like a letter! And-"

'_Oh come on! Another paper?!' 'This isn't our only subject sensei!' 'Four papers in a week! Give us a break captain!' _The whole class chimed in; their voices ringing in Matalim's ears like little bells. _  
_

"**HOY! SILENCE**! Shake a leg you lazy runts! We don't have any exams in this class! Every activity that I assign you with is a take home activity so stop whining! **Oi**! Satoshi! Stop complaining! You owe me two more reaction papers!" She fixed her black sarong as she made her way back towards the teacher's table.

"**ONE PAGE LETTER TO ANYONE**! Write anything that you like! You can bullshit the person, scribble something nonsensical, you can confess your love to whoever it is – I don't care! **JUST MAKE IT CREATIVE**! That's **FINA**L! First draft is to be submitted **TOMORROW**! Do we have an accord**?! EVERYONE WALK THE PLANK!"**

**-  
**

**

* * *

**

**-  
**

KUGA, Natsuki | Department of Physical Sciences and Mathematics

CW 1 TBA 3:00-4:30 pm; T-F

-

Dear S;

Everyday, I arise to the tune of your sweet voice; basking in the afterglow of yesterday's precious moments as if I spent a night in heaven and fell back into earth with you – you are, of course, an angel, and I clung to your wings and took you down on my fall.

You make breakfast as if it were your daily task. You never let me cook. I don't know how to anyway. But it still is very sweet of you. You make the best fried eggs in the world – proof that your hands are indeed, Magical.

I remember when we first met in the gardens. Your voice, the forever poignant melody that it is, touched my heart upon the first note – "Pretty Flowers". "Are not" – this is the chorus. "To be picked" the instrumental. Your smile was of course, the crescendo – the one that completely set my heart on fire.

...

..

.

Another sheet of papyrus. Another sacred text. And if only she were alone: sitting by herself on the bench, then she would have giggled aloud! then she would have kissed and hugged the paper!

-

"Fucking weird letter."

"Ara…but it is very romantic." Shizuru smiled. Matalim simply shook her head.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's weird."

-

With a small hop, Matalim stood up from her seat and began to twist her trunk. The bones sounded like snapping twigs and she stretched her arms forward with a contented sigh. She spun on her sandals to face the glowing vendo machine beside her; smiling at it sarcastically as if it were an enemy.

"I'm buying myself a can of Soda. Do you have rootbeer here? Shit. I hate DIET colas. I need to gain weight! Ahoy vendo machine! Awaken, awaken at the voice of thy commander!"

"Matalim-sensei…you are weirder than this piece of prose." Shizuru laughed as she tucked the loose ends of her skirt underneath her legs.

"No. I'm thirsty." Matalim slumped back into her seat and covered her eyes with her arms dramatically; just as dying characters do in Shakespearean plays.

-

"**Oh myself**!" She cried aloud; her low voice echoing through the somber halls.

"Ara! what was that?" Shizuru asked with a puzzled look on her face.

"I don't believe in god so I can't say Oh my God! I only believe in myself…" Matalim wrapped her arms around her thin body and cried out again "**Oh Myself!"**

"Matalim-han, there is another vendo machine downstairs. I think it sells rootbeer." Matalim stood up and began to walk towards the stairs.

"Watch my things. Don't steal them."

"Of course, Matalim-han." And she smiled at the paper.

--

"Back! I got you your favorite booze." Matalim said as she waved at Shizuru.

"You shouldn't have, Matalim-han." Shizuru replied as she covered her mouth with her handkerchief: a very polite and graceful gesture indeed!

"You owe me fifty yen, sweetheart."

"Ara…I should've known better." And they both laughed. With a skip and a spin, Matalim was sitting beside Shizuru again.

"Kidding. Anyway, here's your tea. Drink up before it goes hot." And with a wink, she handed the can of iced tea to Shizuru.

"Matalim-han. Just for the fun of it, I've answered Kuga-han's letter."

-

"Whoa! Rock en'roll matey. Lemme see that…" THWMP! Fzzzttt! The rootbeer fizzed from the can and Matalim immediately covered the frothy opening with her mouth.

"Hahaha! Awesome work, chum! It's as if you know this kid intimately!" She laughed aloud; almost spewing all the rootbeer out with her amusing laughter.

"Ara…yes…it's as if were intimately close…" And Shizuru took a sip from her tea; allowing the cold liquid to sooth her drying throat.

..

..

* * *

-

Dearest N;

-

"Light of my life! Fire of my loins!" A line I've learnt from a European book. It suits you completely, dearest N, light of my life, fire of my loins! Every morning I wake you up – your hair spilling on the white pillows of our bed like dark, flowing Indian Ink, your face a goddess' façade, your body: forever the perfect work of art, and I sing "good morning" and "wake up" just to catch your attention, for you are always and forever the heavy sleeper and the restless dreamer.

Is it I that you dream of? I do wonder sometimes of what it is that goes through your head. You always seem so farfetched, so lost in thought and space. Am I in that space that you send yourself to whenever you ponder your time away? Please do tell me, N. I certainly would like to know.

I often reminisce on that faithful day to. You were alone; crushing helpless flowers. And I could not resist the urge to stop you. Plus, it was that one moment in which I had the time to introduce myself to you. I still remember that bewildered look on your face – like an angel pulled out of innocence.

Dearest N, when you fell from heaven you did not pull me down. You fluttered into the abyss and pulled me out of hell.

-

-

Matalim folded the paper and tucked it neatly in her pants' pocket. Natsuki stared at the board with wide eyes as her toes and fingers twitched involuntarily. Her palms grew slick with cold sweat. Indian Ink was a mess; swirls turned to grungy whirls and steady, fluid brushstrokes reduced to quick splats. She did not care to comb it with her hands.

"So, does anyone else have any questions? Hmm? I'll be glad to answer them no matter how idiotic they are. Anyone?" Matalim smiled at the crowd.

"Well that sums it all up. Pass your Position Papers on Friday – no BUTS! I've already extended the deadline so all of you ZIP IT! The final and edited draft of your letters is to be submitted on Wednesday so I expect all of you to make it as nice as the letter that I just read. Clear? Clear as mud? Alright, lads and lasses, walk the plank!"

And little by little, the students left the room until it was but an empty void of cement and white paint, of black boards that were mind-bogglingly color green and of chalk dust that spilled into the wind like pixie dust.

"See you next meeting, Miss Kuga." And Matalim exited the room; her sandals making tapping noises on the floor like heavy fingers typing on a keyboard. And she swaggered; whistling an ancient South East Asian anthem as she disappeared into the dark halls of the building: her form reduced to a silhouette, the silhouette reduced to a dot, the dot reduced to nothingness as she turned by a corner and all that was left of her was the echo of her whistling and her constant mutters of _"salidumay diwa." _

And Natsuki's mind was now the Papyrus: dirty with scribbles; dirty with hasty strokes of brushes dipped in Indian Ink. Imprinted there forever – for all eternity! Where the tides of time can never wash it away into forgetfulness! And she exited the halls, left the high cooling air conditioner and went out – out into the open halls where the heat of the afternoon sun turned her aircon-chilled skin electric.

And tonight she would be back home - home to that dainty little apartment with it's glassless windows. And she would surely climb up, up, up those creaky weather beaten stairs again. And tomorrow - work, work, work. Make a living until you die! And she would be greeted with the gentle Kyoto accented "welcome home!" - the same voice. The same person. The same ragged little apartment.

-

And Life is Perfect

-

* * *

-

*Arya – Matalim is from the southern Philippines and like in Japan, the southerners tend to have an accent. Arya means: Come on! Forward! Move! Go!

*salidumay diwa - Filipino, Ancient: Chant meaning Hallelujah or Amen

*EDIT:

*sounds of gongs* ten-ten-ten!

Anyways, this is Kampilan. Bid farewell to this story after a few days since I will be seperating it from this story. But it will stay here, as a part of "Life is Perfect" UNTIL my writer's block is over. Blame Machiavelli, Hobbes and Rosseau since they are sucking my wits out. SIGNING OUT! HARYA!


	3. Chapter 3: Making Wonderland

Drat. The house just ran out of coffee. Therefore, I have been reduced to a voluble talker who likes to blabber about nonsensical things that no one would care to hear. Luckily, they have root beer stored in the refrigerator. And once again, this goes to Kieli. I hope that I made sense to you although I don't even make sense to myself.

Cheers from the Pearl of the Orient!

* * *

**MAKING WONDERLAND  
**

-

-

It was as if they were walking in some child's drawing.

The grass was green. (**of course, when did it become blue?** _**They**_ laughed)

The birds, which were perched on the branches of towering, leafy trees, sang.(**She kept insisting that they were singing carpenter's songs**_. She kept insisting that it sounded like an enka._ To close the whole argument, **she** **concluded that the birds were not singing. They were playing Bach's Orchestral Suite no.16 with their miniature instruments hidden inside their lungs**_. She_ _laughed._)

Of course, Mr. Sun was high up in the heavens; his golden rays rained down upon the earth while he danced with the clouds up in the blue, blue sky, surrounded by white cotton candies.

It was perfect. Too perfect. (_She_ _said that she would not be shocked to come across a white rabbit in a red coat, shouting 'I'm Late! I'm Late!_')

And they had turned by the corner, evading the stares of the students (they were, as always, looking and admiring _her_.) passed the halls and their cracked, antique walls; walls that stood after centuries of bombing. They were in search of talking flowers and small bottles or cakes that had 'eat me' and 'drink me' signs on them. There were none of course. Instead, they found two dogs. Fucking. The male grasped the smaller brown female with its paw. Its claws dug into the mane and into the flesh, while their mouths frothed and thick drool dripped from their long, exposed tongues.

-

"Ara…And I thought we were in wonderland", _Shizuru_ said as she turned around and headed back towards the tall trees were the birds began to play Pachebel's Canon in D.

"Haha! My dear, this god-forsaken planet IS wonderland!", **Matalim** laughed as she stared at the two dogs in disgust and amazement.

"I do not agree with that, Matalim-san. This world is wretched, dying and boring. Everything is as the way it is – no fun, no thrill, and no wonderland." Shizuru stopped by the brick wall; a battered, burnt reminder of the atrocity's that man is capable of committing. She leaned against it; feeling the rough texture of the dried clay with her pliant fingers. Matalim stood behind her and snickered like a child. She snickered back – not sure why.

"Arya! Such a nihilist! When did you turn into a Machiavellian, Miss Fujino? Earth is a wonderland filled with strange creatures. People are strange, wouldn't you agree? We are all as mad and as pointless as the creatures in wonderland are! We contradict ourselves; we eat to shit, and shit to live. Haha!" Matalim said as she skipped towards Shizuru.

"Look who's being a nihilist." Shizuru remarked as she removed some of the brown bangs on her face. Matalim stood beside her and tapped the brick wall with the index finger of her right hand.

"Oh come now Shizuru! I'm as optimistic as always! And to see the world as a wonderland is not a pessimistic way to see it. No! This world is wonderland – every child's playground! A topsy-turvy place filled with mad creatures! Everything – every happening is an irony!"

She raised her hands up to the heavens as she allowed gravity to take her. She fell ungracefully on the grass. Lady bugs jumped up in the air as they left their invaded territory; their marmalade bodies shone as they zoomed away like timid toy jet planes.

-

The birds began to play their Shamisens.

-

"This is my playground! This is wonderland – our playground and we are all losing! We are failing!", Matalim continued as Shizuru slowly knelt down, tucked her skirt underneath her legs, and primly sat down on the grass. Shizuru rested her back and her head on the brick wall behind them.

"Failing?"

"Everyday is failing"

"How so?"

"Living is failing. Do we have an accord?"

But Shizuru stuck her tongue out in disapproval. Matalim chuckled as she closed her eyes and shook her head. Shizuru gazed at her companion and took note of the exotic, sharp features. The eagles opened up and looked at Shizuru.

"Well we all strive to attain peace. But humans are all unique, agreed? And uniqueness is a curse! Believe me, Shizuru! Uniqueness is a curse! For our individuality or our uniqueness is what prevents us from attaining peace. It is the driving force of war! I'm a feminist, he's a chauvinist! She's lesbian, I'm a homophobe! He's muslim, I'm a monogamist! I'm a democrat, they're all communists! I believe in God – GOD?! is that edible?! I believe in free speech and equality – FUCK! Free speech? PORNOGRAPHY AROSE FROM FREE SPEECH YOU TWIT!!" Her voice grew louder as her speech progressed.

"What are you getting at, Matalim-han?"

"We can never let go of our personal identities SLASH! Our uniqueness SLASH! Our individualities! Are you following? Alright, since all these individualities cannot be settled just as everyone cannot be one man, then that leaves us all with one option."

"Let me guess: Kill ourselves?", Shizuru laughed. Matalim straightened her red sarong as she Indian sat on the grass.

"Exactly! Free the world of our filth! Turn wonderland into EARTH! No more quarrels, no more us! just peace, peace, peace!"

"How is that connected with life being a failure?", Shizuru asked in a confused tone.

"Well Shizuru, if the attainment of peace is every man's goal and peace can never be attained as long as there is life, then to live is to **not** attain peace and by not attaining this peace, we fail! Ergo: living is failing. Death is the equalizer and death is peace. And yet! We mad men! We topsy-turvy, selfish brutes! We all LIVE! We all try NOT TO DIE! WE strive for peace and yet dread death!"

-

.

"You ARE a nihilist. _Kami_…I will NEVER vote for you if you run for prime minister." She pretended to not take all that Matalim said seriously. But in truth, the words rang out in her head louder and more beautifully than the birds' orchestra.

"And why is that?"

"Because you say that you are a peace loving man! And so that makes you a lover of death. You will find ways to attain peace, meaning that you will find ways to kill us all."

"But Shizuru! I will find it hard to attain peace because it would be impossible for me to include you and my family in the death list! So…I am a failure", Matalim sighed.

The birds began to sing La Vie en Rose.

"Like I said, Shizuru. We are all SELFISH. We protect and serve our loved ones for our own interests. I work for my mom because I want her to be proud of me and because I want society to see me as a kind, loving daughter. I serve my mom because I love her, because she is important to ME. Take note of the ME. There's always YOU in something important. We're all selfish!"

"That's not a bad thing though."

"Well you could say that there are two types of selfishness then. The good and the bad."

-

Matalim ungracefully stood up, placed her right hand on her chest as she was going to sing the National Anthem.

"We all say SELFLESS LOVE! Bahhhhh!! Nothing is selfless, Shizuru! Not even love!" She recited in a sing-song voice.

"Do elaborate, Matalim-han."

"Okay, let's talk about world peace again. Shit, I feel like miss universe already, don't you? Anyway, let's say I love the poor. I donate to charities every goddamn day because I love the poor, because I want them to live! There's the I there. Why save the poor? Because I love them! Because to me, they are important! They aren't just a bunch of loafers! I believe they deserve to live! Charity is a value that I hold to be important so I help the poor! Because that is my ideology!"

Shizuru stood up. She gently picked the fallen little leaves and the uprooted green grass off of her skirt.

"Or let's say Japan should be a republic! The voice of the people! A government built by the people and run by the people because I believe that everyone is equal! Because everyone deserves a chance! That's not selflessness Shizuru. The SELF is also included there. That's because a republic is MY ideal form of government! And because my ideals: equality, are supported by that government." Matalim continued as she leaned on the wall; posing like an underwear model, earning a loud laugh from Shizuru.

"Love comes from the self! It is every living thing's nature to love! The trees love the soil because it keeps them up and it feeds them. Agreed? Answer me or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Kyoto!" Matalim said in a sharp tone.

"Hai sensei!" Shizuru replied in a shrill voice; imitating the stereotyped voice of high school girls in animes.

"Good girl! Going back, love comes from the self and if wonderland was but a barren wasteland, then there would be no love. So one can never say that love is selfless! That's bullshit! How can love be selfless when it is born from one's self?"

"I think selfless love means sacrificial love."

"Yes, you're right but one's own intention is still included in the sacrifice to be made. Do you concur, Shizuru? Christ died on the cross for our sakes because he wanted to save us from sin. His intention may be for the sake of others but it was still HIS intention – an intention, a plan, an ideal that he himself made and held unto. Because He loved – he held us to be important! HIS love. And so, love is never selfless. The self is always included in loving."

They walked back towards the garden where flowers were blots of dried acrylic paint and the grass was a million quick wisps of dried brushes. The cumulus clouds were temptingly sweet. _Cotton candy_. **Telletubies**. _**Wonderland.**_

"It's a different tune, no?"

"It's a traditional Japanese song. Sakura."

"Shit no. It's Michael Jackson's Heal the World."

-

* * *

-

"Do you think people will be able to achieve world peace one day?", she asked as she rested her head on Natsuki's sturdy shoulders.

"No", Natsuki replied huskily. She stroked Shizuru's head with her right hand while she held her chemistry text book in the other. Her green eyes scanned page 132 with a porous mind; ready to absorb the knowledge presented before her in voluble amounts.

"Ara, why is that, love?"

"Because people can never settle their differences."

"Are you certain?"

"Hai." She replied with a smile. She concentrated on the text, on the charts that seemed to be circuit boards in their complexity.

'_The ground-state structures, chemical bonding properties, and vibrational energy levels of small polyatonic free radicals and molecular ions may differ considerab—'_

"I hate motorcycles."

"What?" She asked as she closed the text book and turned her head to look at a pouting Shizuru Fujino who was incredibly adorable.

"They're loud and dangerous. Sitting on them is like sitting on a noisy death trap."

"Shizuru, I drive saf-"

"And yet, I love you."

Natsuki placed the text book down on the floor and they were once again locked in passion's sweet embrace; inhaling each other's scent, tasting each other's mouth, feeling each other's skin, expressing love to one another with each smack, each nibble, each flick of the tongue until they were both breathless and lying on the raggedy lavender sofa – still locked in passion's sweet embrace.

-

.

"Is world peace attainable?" Shizuru asked as she nuzzled into Natsuki's chest.

"Maybe…"

"Equivocating is unacceptable in politics."

"I don't like politics…" Natsuki replied breathily with eyes closed. In the curtains of her eyelids, the charts crumbled and the ions, anions, and formulas flew away. She opened her eyes and gazed lovingly at crimson pools in front of her.

"But I love you, Shizuru." She continued as she planted a sweet kiss on Shizuru's forehead. Shizuru cuddled closer; enjoying the warmth of the body beneath her.

"You're phone is vibrating…"

"Ara…And I thought that was your hand," she sat up straight and took her black celphone out her skirt's pocket "Mine's not ring-"

"Shit! It's mine!" And Natsuki jumped up from her seat in panic; grabbed her backpack from under the sofa and rummaged through her things until she caught the vibrating device in her hands. She clicked the beeping green answer button.

"Moshi-moshi."

-

"Hai…Hai…Gomen Tagitare-san…Hai. I'll-..H-hai." Shizuru stood up and fixed her clothes. She walked towards the kitchen sink where the dishes awaited her attention.

-

BEEP. Natsuki sighed in frustration as she threw the celphone back into the abyss of her backpack.

"Shizuru, there's trouble at the restaurant and my boss asked me to-"

"I understand. You need not explain." She replied as she walked back towards the sofa with a warm cup of tea in her left hand.

"I'm…sorry."

"Shh…it's not your fault." She embraced Natsuki once again. She did not want to let go of the warm body nor feel the cold of the night! She needed the warm embrace, she was hungry for more passionate kisses. And the night was still young! The city burned in electric glory as the candy-colored dust mites danced around them; their violin voices filling Shizuru's heart with sadness.

"Be well, love." A kiss. This is not wonderland. This is the world – cold, cruel, pulling lovers out of embraces.

Another kiss. "I have to go now…"

-

* * *

-

The tiles on the kitchen's counter were chipped, yet they were pearly white. The dishes were tucked underneath the covers of the cupboard: cleansed of grease, bits of rice, and today's dinner: eggplant tempura. The wind howled as it blew across the room and sipped like water as it pushed itself into glassless window panes.

Shizuru sat on the sofa. Her were eyes transfixed on the unpaid bills in front of her, but her mind wandered across the depths of her memory, through the deserts of time, to the bright, carefree days in Fuuka where everyone wore smiling faces, where lonely motherless ice princesses crushed helpless flowers and rode shiny, expensive motorcycles like superbike racers.

A tear fell from her eye as she smelled the scent of Chrysanthemum flowers once more. For it was the festival and she was there: wearing a beautiful yellow kimono, making her way towards the shrine when her only care and problem in life was Natsuki and Natsuki alone.

She looked out into sky; her vision slipped pass the steel bars of the glassless window panes and out, out into the night where the moon stared back at her with a sinister grin and the stars rattled like golden earrings. She wept silently: one hand pressed to the mouth to prevent a sound of anguish from escaping. For the city seemed so glorious! So alive! So young back then when they rode through the streets, passing blur after blur of shining neon colored light, laughing as they broke curfew rules and speed limits. She, clinging to Natsuki's back, kissing the neck as the shiny, forever-new vehicle sped away into seas of dark cement.

But now it was all but a fleeting moment dead to the world but alive in her mind! And how she wished she could turn back time and savor freedom once again! But alas, the moon smiled sinisterly at her and the world murdered hearts and pulled lovers out of embraces.

-

CLICK!

-

The door creaked open and Natsuki stepped in gently.

"I'm home!" she called out as she took her leather jacket off.

Silence.

Silence.

Nothing more but the whistling of summer winds as they swept across the room.

"Shizuru?"

She walked towards the sofa, towards the dim, dying light that she forgot to replace. Shizuru sat there, drinking her fourth cup of tea.

"You're selfish." Shizuru said as she took a sip of hot tea. Natsuki sat down beside Shizuru.

"I'm selfish." Shizuru said as she placed the cup down on the table and looked at Natsuki. The raven haired beauty opened her mouth to speak, but it was silenced by a kiss.

"I love you." Shizuru smiled.

"I love you to. But would you please tell me why and when did I become selfish? I feel a bit offended Shizu-"

Shizuru chuckled gently; the same sweet laugh that filled Natsuki's ears a long time ago when they lived as carefree as the dust that allowed themselves to be swept away by angry summer winds. The lights of the sinful city danced behind them like giant disco balls. They weren't in the mood to dance though.

-

"Natsuki, please say something philosophical." Shizuru rested her head on Natsuki's study shoulder. They returned to the same sweet position that they shared five hours ago.

"What? Shizuru? Are you serious?!" Natsuki laughed.

"Hai. Please."

"The moon is made of cheese." Natsuki said nervously; reciting the line was if it was a child' rhyme.

"That's not philosophical."

"It isn't?" She covered her face with the palm of her right hand in embarrassment. "Okay…what do you…what do you want to hear about?"

"Anything."

"Okay. Beauty. Beauty is subjective. What may be beautiful for me may be ugly for other people." She gazed at Shizuru's emotionless face and tried to find a hint of amusment. There was none. '_Shit…I'm no good at this. Why didn't she just ask me about bikes…or even genetic mutations!'_

"So I may seem ugly to some people", Shizuru stood up and walked towards the glassless window panes. The alienish hues of the city danced on her face.

"What?! No! hell no! You're beautiful."

"But you just said beauty is subjective."

"There are standards of beauty and according to them, you are gorgeous." Natsuki said with a growl. She was growing frustrated. It was a rough day filled with large bulk orders and demanding customers who got angry whenever she forgot to give them their packets of ketchup.

"Then beauty is not subjective since there are laws to be considered-"

"Look! Maybe I'm not good in this but I know what's beautiful from what's not. And I'm looking at beauty right now!" Natsuki blushed furiously after the statement.

-

Shizuru was quiet. She knew she was supposed to say something like: _'How sweet…' _or _'Ookini, Natsuki.'_ But instead:

"…Although there are standards of beauty that society has imprinted on everyone's minds, people deviate from this just as they do to other written and unwritten norms. Man is by nature contradictive. His thoughts and emotions are forever in turmoil and his state of being is anarchic. Ara, " She covered her mouth with her hand; pressing the words and thoughts back, back into her throat and up, up into her brain where they returned as nerve impulses, "Am I…turning into..." She bit her lip.

"What?"

"Natsuki…"

"What?!" Natsuki got up from her seat and walked towards Shizuru.

"We're so…different…yet I love you."

"I know. But differences can be settled", She wrapped her arms around Shizuru.

"We can never shed our individualities away," Shizuru turned around to face her; their noses pressed against each other's, their breaths mingled and turned to one warm gust of air.

"Shizuru you're acting weird!"

"How can we settle differences? How do we throw our own selves away?" Shizuru asked with a cocky smile. She really didn't need an answer.

"We don't need to. We keep our identities to ourselves – our charges. Some are negatively charged people – grumpy, pessimistic…some are positively charged: happy, smart...`c-cause, Shizuru, it's these differences, this individuality, this charges that attract us to one another! that keep us together!" Shizuru's eyes widened in surprise. It was her time to flash the brunette a cocky smile, and Natsuki did so as she continued with her speech.

"Look at it this way Shizuru. Atoms make molecules, molecules make matter. We are simply a collection of atoms. We are all atoms: possessing different charges. I know I'm a negative one – an anion. I lost a positive charge, my mother, a long time ago. Then I bumped into you. You're a positively charged one – Cation. And well…we form a bond! An Ionic bond!"

Shizuru laughed. Matalim was right. They were in wonderland. Twisted, absurd and yet…and yet – She looked into Natsuki's shimmering Viridian eyes. _Kaleidoscope eyes_. –And yet there was a profound beauty in it. More beautiful than talking flowers and pastel skies or sunny, golden afternoons that seemed to be living children's paintings – Natsuki.

And it did not matter anymore if ice princesses no longer crushed helpless flowers, or if shiny Ducati's aged and turned into rusty blue contraptions. Because that was wonderland a very long time ago. They had created a new one now. She was the mad hatter before – raving about tea parties and chasing fleeting damsels who rode away in shiny bikes. And now she was but – but Shizuru Fujino. The mask had been thrown away. The tea parties ended. She was with the love of her life, in her new wonderland where cruel summer winds battered small rooms with their godlike strengths and heaved to pull lovers out of embraces and yet- YET! It could not pull them out of theirs even though they locked themselves in passion's sweet embrace under the frown of the sinister moon.

-

"Did I just philosophize?"

"No, you just likened us to atoms. But you're right." And they kissed.

The walls crumbled, the lavender sofa melted, and the murderous moon shrieked and died. Mr. Sun rose up, drew the dark curtains of the night away, and revealed the pastel blue skies. The cotton candy clouds rose up and danced around the sun while the city fell to pieces and grass broke free from the pavements.

"You hate philosophy." Shizuru said.

"Yeah…but I love you." Another Kiss.

Then trees with spade, clubs, diamonds, and heart fruits burst from the ground and wiggled their mighty branches high in the air as they kissed the pastel heavens with their green mouths. And talking flowers rose from the ground while lady bugs zoomed around them like shiny, red planes.

"I love you to…" And another kiss.

A white rabbit in a crimson coat ran across the gardens. Red chessmen, white chessmen, black chessmen – they all marched through the fields. They sang glorious anthems of praise as they marched and up, up into the ivory tower where the queen of hearts was kissing an ice princess. They encircled the two beauties and bowed deeply before them while the other Looking Glass and wonderland creatures entered the golden room and danced around joyfully.

"Who have you been talking to?" Asked the ice princess.

"Alice." The red queen answered with a Cheshire cat's smile.

Flowers sang of beauty, rabbits strutted in tailcoats, everyone drank tea and played croquette, knights marched underneath the sun's loving gaze; their silver and golden armors twinkling like stars, while the red queen and the ice princess kissed - All in the golden afternoon, where lovers stayed locked in passion's sweet embrace.

-

* * *

-

"You pollute heads."

"Why would I do that?" Matalim asked as she adjusted the small, circular reading glasses that dangled dangerously on the tip of her nose.

"Sometimes people don't need reasons to do things."

"Arya! But you know, not having a reason at all IS reason." Matalim laughed as she stood up from her seat to straighten her olive green sarong. She hated wrinkles.

"Matalim-han you're being a sophist." Shizuru remarked with a pout. Matalim sat down again and stared out into the empty halls where the security guard kept marching back and forth like a gallant knight.

"No I'm not! Why do I pollute heads? Nothing! See, that's the reason there. Nothing."

But Shizuru crossed her arms in front of her in mockery and Matalim laughed.

-

"Alright, to say that 'I do not have a reason for doing so' is to conceal the real agenda. So, Shizuru, why would I do that?" Matalim asked impishly.

"Because you wanted to." Shizuru replied mirthlessly; unsure if her response was correct.

"Or maybe I didn't." Matalim replied with a chuckle.

"You're a puzzle."

"That's not true and you know it. If I were, then you probably solved me already since you are my friend."

"No, you are my puzzle. And I'm here with you because I haven't solved you. _**Yet.**_"

"No. You're accusation is false. I am an open book to you - waiting to be read."

"Then you are a mystery."

Matalim crossed her legs and removed the reading glasses from her face. She handed it to Shizuru, who took it with her pallid fingers.

"Is that so? hmmm…I always wanted to be a tragedy. Oh…myself…"

"Why?", Shizuru asked as she wore the glasses, _'Ara…I thought she had poor eyesight.'_

"Because the only way to be remembered is to be tragic. Because common deaths are boring. Dying in bed of old age or of some grave disease is such a cliché. And cliché's are ignored. Tragic deaths, on the other hand, call for attention. The more gruesome, the more pitiful, the more attractive to the audience. Imagine! Here lies Matalim! Dead at 22! Chopped to death by the university's chef just before she turned 23. Now that would be remembered! That would be printed in the news: FRONTPAGE! Theses about brutal deaths and crimes would use my name – my death over and over again! Don't you want that for yourself, Shizuru?" Matalim replied with a husky laugh.

"No, because I like failing and I have someone to fail for. Matalim-han, you are in your own wonderland."

"Wrong. I don't create worlds. I live in them. Playing god would be boring. Everything is so high-maintenance and I'd be the only one to fix my creations when they fuck up."

"Why am I always wrong to you?" Shizuru asked in a distressed tone.

"No."

"There you go agai-"

"You're just imperfect.", Matalim replied with a serious look on her face.

"And I love that about you. Because imperfections are what makes us perfect, beautiful beings. Without imperfections we would all be the same copies of our perfect selves. And that, Shizuru, would be boring to the point of ennui." She continued with a smile.

…

Silence

…

"We're all…madmen." Matalim said as she slumped on her chair.

"Madness creates wonderland, correct Matalim-han?"

"Yep", Matalim replied with a nod.

"I created wonderland a long time ago. I got mad – angry and insane. In my madness, I created wonderland for me and for someone else."

-

Matalim was silent for a while. "Can I live in yours?"

"Ara?"

"Can I live in your wonderland?"

"No, matalim. No, you cannot."

"Like I said. I never create worlds. Because if I did, everything would be peaceful. No one would be alive. Not even me."

-

Matalim laughed mirthlessly. She raised her head and stared at the ceiling; memorizing the position of the cobwebs and the cracks that ran on the aged ceiling like roads.

"I lost mine."

"What?" Shizuru asked.

"I lost mine a long time ago. But that's just petty shit that I decided to forget about."

"And yet you remember it now", She chuckled.

"Because you remind me of it. How strange, how sweet, but alas! how short, how disastrously my world ended. I am but a requiem of it – Dies Irae."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Shizuru asked in a concerned tone. She never heard her friend talk like that before.

"No, thank you. It is not in my nature to recreate things that are finished. Regrets are like food, Shizuru. Eat them, relish their bitterness, swallow and digest them to learn from them, and then excrete them as shit, left to decompose into oblivion." Matalim replied as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Recreation…you are right. It is never an option, neh? It is always about picking up things and starting a new wonderland. It may lack things that were present in the previous world but…but there are things in it – there is a profound magnificence in it that was not present in the previous world. And that's what makes it better." Shizuru added.

Shizuru raised her head and stared into the road map above them.

"Is it beautiful?"

"What?" She looked at Matalim in puzzlement. Matalim continued to stare at the ceiling as if she were gazing at the stars.

-

"Your wonderland - Is it beautiful?"

"No, it's not. I don't think it ever will be either." Shizuru said in a cheerful tone.

…

Silence

…

Shizuru stood up and fixed her salmon colored blouse. A contented smile was plastered on her face and she continued her speech:

"But she's in it. And it's perfect."

And it was a golden afternoon.

-

* * *

-

-

Dearest reader,

There are instances in our lives when things get dingy and we never get the things that we think we deserve. Instead of finding our hard-working selves prancing like happy unicorns on a tropical island, we find ourselves in some small prairie; surrounded by few trees that refuse to bear bright colored fruits.

My friends, wallow not in despair if you find yourselves stuck in this prairie. Realize that there are things in the prairie that can never be found in the tropical island of our dreams. Sure, the island is covered by lush green trees that grow incredibly high, and the sand on the beach is whiter than pearl. But look around and you will see that the ground is a beautiful shade of burgundy, Dandelions adorn the fields of grass that you walk on. And in the evening you may lie around and allow the knee-high grasses to embrace you while you look out into the majestic heavens and stare at the celestial bodies that twinkle like diamonds in the sky without having to worry about trees that may block your view or fruits that may fall on your head.

May we all have a prosperous 2009.

Kampilan.


	4. Chapter 4: Parallel Kisses

A/N: Dearest reader. The following are to blame for the creation of this story:

1= Two wasted hours of sitting in a jam packed jeep with my arse barely touching the leather cushions.

2= GXXL. Who bombarded my pathetic little mind with quantum theories as we rode through hell's highway. Curse you geek-squadron!

3= MOTHER. For not buying any coffee. Still stuck with Sarsi (Filipino rootbeer). Yes, all work and no coffee makes me a dull girl. All work and no coffee makes me a dull girl. All work and no coffee makes me a dull girl.

One word to describe the state of my mind – SsssOOooUUuuuPpppppp….

I am extremely dissatisfied with myself. AND WITH THE COFFEE-LESS MUG IN FRONT OF ME!!! And I am dissatisfied with this story. So forgive me, Kieli, for being crappy.

No, no. Nothing deep about this one! (At least in my opinion).Nevertheless, enjoy genetic combination of Mrs.*insert mom's name here* and Mr. *insert Dad's name here*.

-

* * *

**PARALLEL KISSES. **

-

-

The hallway turned white as the chemistry majors marched forth like a battalion of soldiers dressed in lab gowns and armed with charts and calculators. Natsuki yawned as she tucked her hands inside her lab gown's pockets. She forgot to bring her goggles again. _'Damn…another minus. So much for getting flat 1.'_

The heels of their shoes clicked against the red marble floors as they passed room after room and climbed stair after stair. Natsuki stopped near the entrance of a particular classroom with aged cream colored walls, garnished with a hundred vandalisms about nasty professors and many 'I love you Fujino sensei's written in black and red pentel pen ink.

Shizuru stood on the wooden platform while the students stared dreamily at her from their seats. Natsuki walked a few good meters near the classroom's open door and waved at the beautiful professor.

-

"Theories of government often start from the premise that conflict among men arises from essentially nonpolitical causes – economical, psychological, ideological – and then go on to show how the government is a response to this state of conflict…"

"Ara…" She looked at the door with a sweet smile on her face.

'_Fujino-sensei?_' The students turned their attention towards the back of the classroom, beyond the door and towards the empty halls where the parade of white gowns and goggles continued to march towards the laboratory. _'Who was sensei smiling at?' 'I don't know…there's no one there' 'I think she smiled at me…' 'Are you freaking blind? Baka! She was smiling at me!' _

"Ara! are you all done? Can I go on with the lecture now?"

"Hai sensei." They replied and blushed in chorus.

"Very well, Social Contract theorists such as Locke, Rosseau and Hobbes insisted the government is an agreement. Perhaps what sets all three social contracts apart is the sovereignty that each author places on the government. Hobbes, a supporter of monarchy, argued in "The Leviathan" that the government's sovereignty is absolute…"

She went on with the lecture, suddenly feeling a surge of energy running through her veins.

-

-

It was a sunny afternoon and the empty glasswares illuminated the laboratory with a hundred suns, shimmering around the students like fairies trapped in bottles. They were stored in huge brown cabinets like toys. Natsuki looked around the laboratory, avoiding the fiery gazes of the glasswares.

The chemicals bubbled inside the test tubes like witch's brew. The matrix of glasswares in front reminded her of roller coaster rides – swirling, twirling, connected to one another in an endless ride of loops and hoops. The multi colored liquid stored in the Erlenmeyer flasks that stood proudly on the left side of the room looked like molten candy. She began to develop a craving for candy coated chocolate. _'Nips…or even mnm's would do…_'

"No! No experiments today so keep your lab manuals closed." The old professor announced as he entered the room. _'Flat 1 you're still mine.' _Natsuki smiled to herself. The lanky old man reached for the piece of white chalk on the teacher's table.

"Just plain good old lectures. I hope you brought your notebooks with you? Settle down class! Everyone settle down!" He tucked his left hand inside his dark blue pants' pocket and began to write on the shabby black board.

-

**MANY WORLDS THEORY**

**-  
**

"The Many Worlds Theory was proposed by Hugh Everett III in the year 1957. It states that for each possible outcome to an action, the world splits into a copy of itself. This is an instantaneous process called **decohesion.** The universe splits in two so that each action is taken."

Many of the students began to write notes on their notebooks. Natsuki glared at the professor in annoyance _'Slow down you old geezer…can't you see people are tying to write notes?' _Above her, in the plane of nothingness where clouds did not sail, in the horizon that sun nor moonlight did not breach, negatively charged specks of blue dust danced around.

"One vital aspect of the Many-Worlds theory is that when the universe splits, the person is unaware of himself in the other version of the universe. This is the same case with quantum suicide.

"When the man pulls the trigger and the universe is split in two, however, the version of the man who lived will be unaware that in the other version of the split universe, he has died. Instead he will continue to live and will again have the chance to pull the trigger."

She crossed her legs and leaned against the smooth white table. She gazed at the set of test tubes to her right: concentrated rainbows sealed in glass.

"And each time he does pull the trigger, the universe will again split, with the version of the man who lives continuing on, and being unaware of all of his deaths in **parallel universes**. In this sense, he will be able to exist indefinitely. The outcome of the action is determined by the spin of the electron – counterclockwise or clockwise. "

She removed her eyes from the sparkling sight of bubbling chemicals and stared out of the window, towards the antique classroom where Shizuru began to write the word: "NOBLE SAVAGE" on the blackboard.

"This is called **quantum immortality. **So think about it this way, right now you're sitting in this classroom but at the same time you just walked out and met your high school sweetheart outside the campus." The old professor said as he massaged his bald head.

**-**

The blue dust surrounded her and she glowed bluishly like an alien descending from her UFO.

**-**

She suddenly stood up from her seat. The tiny orbs began to dance faster and faster, creating a halo of light on her head. The blue spheres clung to her body like chalk dust on the professor's black coat. They danced around – each little glowing spot turning around and around like microscopic planets rotating and revolving around her as she glowed brighter and brighter!

The shining marbles flew up in the air as they exploded; engulfing the lab in a flash of blinding azure light. It stretched and stretched and glowed and glowed until it broke through the earth's atmosphere and spread through the vastness of the universe; turning suns and stars into shiny blue Christmas balls and planets into mere specks of glitters.

-

-

_Mirror Image_. **egamI rorriM. **

Counter-clockwise. 

-

-

The lights died down. The planets turned back into planets – bubble gums floating in space. The university was no longer a flashing blue cabaret – its aged white walls still the same cracked solid survivors of centuries of war. And the lab was still the lab – no longer an enormous Erlenmeyer flask filled with bubbling blue liquid.

-

She was still standing.

"Kuga-san?" the professor asked in a surprised tone.

"I'm going out." She flicked her hair with her right hand and took of her lab gown.

"SIT DOWN!" The professor roared. The other students stared at the old man like scared dogs. She turned around and threw the lab gown at the professor.

"I'LL FAIL YOU!" He growled in a lion's voice as veins popped from his head.

"Screw you! I can pass this class without attending any of your boring lectures." She replied with a mocking smile. He threw the piece of chalk at her in god-like speed! It ripped through the air and turned into a white torpedo.

Natsuki jumped up and evaded the torpedo. FWOOM! It crashed against the wall and killed ten students. _'Shit let's get out of here!' 'Every man for himself!' 'Someone call the cops!'_ And there arose a great clamor for calculators, notebooks, and pens. Many jumped out of the windows while others frantically ran towards the exit.

"MATERIALIZE!" And there in her hands where two shiny silver cannons. "Load! Silver Cartridge!" Ka-shink! Ka-shink! Gears rolling, metals pushed and pulled – "Fire!!!"

BANG! BANG! Two flashes of silver, a gurgled scream. And professor Tamabin was reduced to icy smithereens.

She stretched her arms and the silver canons folded themselves into small pistols. She snapped her fingers and the pistols turned into water vapor. She walked out of the frozen classroom and ran in the speed of light towards the other side of the hall where Shizuru waited for her with welcoming open arms. The electrons danced above them like mating fireflies.

-

-

**egamI rorriM****. **_Mirror Image_.

Clockwise.

**-**

**-**

She was still standing.

-

"Kuga-san?" the professor asked in a surprised tone.

"I-…" She sat down. Shizuru could wait. After all, they live under the same roof.

"Speak up child."

"Nothing." She replied. The blue orbs spun around her, leaving trails of blue glowing thread as they waltzed around her black hair.

-

-

* * *

..

..

4:00.

-

Few students populated the library during this time of the day (Populated – _she_ wasn't in class and yet _sh_e was still being political.) According to S_hizuru_, the library was a depository of knowledge. According to **Matalim**, the library was the best place to sleep in. Nonetheless, they decided to spend the next thirty minutes of their free time there.

They gazed at each other (even though they had grabbed different books from the shelves) and snickered pointlessly at the serious expression on each other's face.

"Shizuru are you really from Kyoto?" Matalim slumped on her chair and gazed at the ceiling cracks above her. _Road maps…landscapes..high ways etched on cement._

"Hai, Matalim-han. Why?"

"Coz shit…you're so fucking alien."

"You aren't so human yourself, Matalim."

"Hahahaha! Then we're both alien. I came out of Spielberg's movies. Oh—wee-ooohhh" She started to hum the Twilight Zone theme.

"I was actually thinking of Planet mars." Shizuru butted in as she drew circles on the air.

"And I suppose you're from Venus?"

"Hai….hai I am from Venus." Shizuru said, before asking a moment after: What's your next class?"

"Ugh…SOCSCI 2. The kids there are so slow there. Jesus..."

"Well Matalim-han, if everyone were as fast as you, then you wouldn't be unique."

"Thanks…imperfections, lapses…they all complete us. But shit, I need a can of root beer to complete myself right now." She said generously.

"Such an unhealthy habit…" Shizuru shook her head in disdain.

"Shut up. Too much tea makes the liver and the linings of the intestine thin." Matalim scowled.

"Ara! I don't drink excessively."

"Yeah. And I don't drink root beer at all."

"Don't drink root beer Matalim-han. It makes your breath stink."

"It does?" Matalim asked with a worried smile on her face.

"It will if you drink one more can."

"How about half of the can?" Shizuru glared at her and Matalim laughed softly at the fake anger on Shizuru's face. "Alright…alright…sheesh…bummer."

-

Shizuru opened the book she borrowed earlier. She stared at the red cover where the title of the book, De Civitate Dei, was written in golden ink. _'Never judge a book by its cover. And yet I cannot help noticing that beautiful book covers have the power to catch any passerby's attention…Ara…how do they expect kid's to appreciate political theory with this kind of approach?...' _her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed that Matalim was singing.

"And now the end is near. And so I face the final curtain."

"My Way." She placed the book down on the table. _'She has a nice voice. Alto? Hai...alto..._'

"One of the best songs in zeh world. I think it suited Hitler."

"I think it suits all of us. We live our lives just as we like to – or need to. Each life is unique."

"No. Most people live lives as they are dictated to. They don't do things their way – society tells them to wear this and act like this." Matalim narrowed her eagle eyes in considering it.

"I'm always wrong to you, neh?" She asked with a pout.

"You're never wrong. It's just that our opinions are different from one another."

"Hmmm…because in an infinite universe with infinite possibilities, nothing is impossible." She declared in a confident voice.

"Yes. And knowledge is tentative. Centuries from now there might be just seven planets. Who knows? Aha! See, now we agree on something."

…

High, high above, in a plane that mortal vision did not breach, electrons began to dance around them like ballerinas in blue tutus – spinning tirelessly as they zoomed through the abyss of perfection where nothing is made nor destroyed.

…

"Is there something else that you'd like to do?"

"Ara? no…I just want to wait for my next class here with you. How about you?"

"I always want to do something else. Past time with good company! I love and thus shall love until I die!"

The librarian rang her bell as she gave Matalim an irritated look. Matalim simply waved at the Librarian.

"What do you want to do?" Shizuru asked with an arched brow.

"Well, instead of talking…we could try killing each other right now and see for ourselves if there really is life after death."

"Let's just talk. You're a good conversationalist."

"Really?" Matalim cleared her throat and then continued: "Alam mo ba na dati may pinatay akong lalake noong bata pa ko. Naabutan ko kasi siya sa loob ng C.R ng mga babae, nagjajakol. Nagulat ako, akala ko may ginagahasa siya."

"Matalim-han?" Shizuru asked, completely puzzled. But Matalim continued with her speech.

"Kaya kumuha ako ng patalim – yung sirang hanger na nakakalat lang sa maruming sahig ng palikuran. Tapos ginilitan ko siya ng leeg. Masaya manggilit ng leeg na tao, alam mo ba iyon Shizuru? Para ka lang gumugupit ng medyo makunat na chicharon."

-

The tiny blue ballerinas entered the stage – the library; leaving trails of glowing cerulean lace as they skipped towards the two actresses.

-

Matalim inhaled audibly, completely unaware of the blue ballerinas that jumped into her nostrils. Shizuru took this opportunity to check her violet t-shirt for wrinkles.

-

"How's that for a conversation?" Matalim asked with a grin.

"I didn't understand a word."

"Hahahahaha! The expression on your face! Priceless!"

-

The room was flooded by blue light.

-

"You're right, Matalim-han. Why don't we just kill ourselves for science's sake?"

"Mhmm…" She nodded in reply.

-

And then an infinity of blue dancers swiveled around the earth. They spun and spun around in their heels until the aria of eternity ended! The blue curtains fell and hid the library.

-

-

**An applause**. _esualppa nA_

The curtains were drawn from left to right.

-

-

"Yes. I'm the war god's daughter, remember? I am Matalim Pulalon! I have no heart."

"Are you?" They gazed at each other and snickered pointlessly at the serious expression on each other's face. A warm gust of wind blew across the room. It was the signal. They both rose from their seats. Shizuru hopped away – distance was important in every battle.

"Raaahhh!" Matalim grabbed her chair and broke it into unrecognizable pieces of wood.

Shizuru scanned the room for a weapon. She saw a long sharp metal to stick to her left. She ran towards it and took it in her hand. She posed in her typical Naginata-jitsu fighting stance. "Ara…choose your weapon Matalim Pulalon." She smiled devilishly.

"I don't need any. I'm going to take you down with my bare fists Ms. Perfect."

"No regrets then!" Shizuru charged at Matalim.

"REGRETS ARE FOR LOSERS!!!" Matalim side-stepped just in time to avoid Shizuru's attack. But Shizuru swung the metal rod on her shoulders and WHACK! "Oof!" Matalim fell on knees, clutching her head as she grimaced in pain.

"Ara! I thought you're the war god's dau-" But Matalim spun around in her wooden sandals and before she could even shout, Shizuru was swept over her heels.

BLAG! Matalim threw her against the wall_. 'Ara…such strength…'_ She tasted copper in her mouth and spat out cold red blood. The tall dark brown bookshelves shook.

Matalim was panting and charging at her like a bull. She ignored the pain, stood up and swung the metal stick across her shoulders. Matalim was merely an inch away from her, ready to land a colossal punch on her face. Eagle eyes. Crimson eyes. SLASH! WHAPPACK!

-

It flew up in the air. Blood. Flesh. Blood Flesh. Metal. Fist. Face. Heart.

-

'_Someone call an ambulance!!!" _The bell rang as it bounced on the floor. The librarian and the other spectators dashed away from the scene, yelling like children at play.

"Ara…" She fell on her knees as she spat out glob after glob of pinkish chipped flesh and sweet red blood.

Matalim lay still on the floor; staring at the road maps, landscapes, and highways etched in the cement. Eagle eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling while Shizuru continued to vomit blood as she leaned on the bleeding metal rod for support.

-

-

_esualppa nA. _**An Applause**

The curtains were drawn right to left.

-

-

"Yes. I'm the war god's daughter, remember? I am Matalim Pulalon! I have no heart."

"Are you?" She asked sarcastically.

"No. I'm buying myself some root beer. You can't stop me." Matalim stood up from her seat.

"Yes I can." Shizuru remarked as Matalim began to walk away.

"Sit down you silly, silly girl." Matalim stopped in her tracks and turned her head towards Shizuru.

"If this were a parallel universe, I would have. Give me ten minutes." Matalim walked wolfishly towards the exit; fixing her mauve sarong as she went. She stopped before the glaring librarian and gave the middle-aged woman the dirty finger _'Go screw yourself.' _An extra hand waved goodbye at Shizuru and Matalim floated away from the library in search of the earthly refreshment called rootbeer.

"Parallel..." Shizuru whispered into the air while little blue ballerinas spun around her. She patted the dust off of her white toga while the third eye on her forehead blinked.

-

-

* * *

-

-

The stars twinkled up in the heavens as the blue dust descended into the heavens like candy sprinkles falling from the sky. Another day was over, another day was spent. But the blue dust remained awake and alive! Diligently dancing to the aria of the universe as they descended gracefully from the dark firmament.

-

"So the suicidal man would just click the gun over and over again until the action and the doer is immortalized in another parallel universe." Natsuki explained as she dressed herself in her blue pajamas.

"Ara…that's…well it's just like an episode from twilight zone." Shizuru was resting on the bed. She wore a white semi-transparent night gown and has just finished reading "The Punishment Response".

"Creeps the hell out of me." Natsuki said as she buttoned her top.

"And I thought nothing scares you."

"I said 'creeps' not 'scares'. Those are two very different things, Shizuru. I might find something creepy but that doesn't mean I'm scared of it." She growled after stating this reply.

"Hai hai…come on now. You're starting to become quite a talker." Shizuru said as she patted the soft bed.

"B-baka!" Natsuki said with clenched teeth.

"I need cuddling." Shizuru pouted. Natsuki raised her hands in defeat and proceeded to lie down on the bed next to a smiling Shizuru.

-

Outside, it rained electrons.

-

"What are we like in other universes?" Natsuki asked as she kissed Shizuru's elegant neck. Shizuru rolled over and looked at her.

"Hmm…you'd still be a beautiful Ice Princess and I'd still be me. And we'd still be together and very much in love." Shizuru replied as she pulled Natsuki into a tight embrace.

"What makes you say so?"

"I'm just guessing. No universe is going to separate my heart from you." Shizuru coaxed.

"Parallel universes are limitless."

"Yes and so there is also an infinity of possibilities and one of those possibilities, Natsuki, would be the one that I stated a few seconds ago."

"I guess you're right. One universe or another we'd still be lovers." Natsuki said as she planted a few kisses on Shizuru's forehead.

"Ara…my Natsuki just called me her lover."

"A-aren't we?"

"We're just fuck buddies."

"SHIZURU!"

"Gomen, Natsuki." she said as prodded the tip of the small nose with a finger.

"Enough of your inelegant comments!" Natsuki scoffed in a low voice.

"Enough of your comedy! Come, let's go to sleep. I have a seven o'clock class to teach."

-

Outside, the city was enveloped in some strange primordial light.

-

"Oi…Shizuru."

"Hmmm?" Shizuru replied groggily with half-lidded eyes.

"Then kisses are immortal?"

"You're the chemist here, missy."

"But you have better logic."

"Hmmm…." She stared at Natsuki's face for a while before answering: "I guess so. Since kissing is an action."

"Then…" Natsuki bent down and kissed Shizuru. It was a soft, passionate kiss. It was as if she was massaging Shizuru's lips with her own.

-

Outside the world grew dizzy of its spinning.

-

The ballerinas were back. _ENCORE!_

-

And as luscious lips mashed against each other, as bodies melted into one whilst locked in passion's sweet embrace; they spun around faster and faster splitting the universe into another universe! It was as if they were on silver screen – a perfect moment captured! Forever beautiful! And universes may crumble! And worlds may cease to spin but love shall go on loving!

And with each kiss and electron split. And with each split another perfect universe made! Another perfect kiss! Another perfect love!

-

-

**Cresendo**! _odneserC!_

_odneserC! _**Cresendo!**

-

And so they kiss.

-

-

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

And Kiss. And life is Perfect.

INFINITY

-

-

**_And expansion of universes - an expansion of kisses. Parallel universes - Parallel kisses.  
_**

.

-.

* * *

-

-

-

-

And author bangs her head on table again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Till life is perfect (meaning, she has her coffee.)

Oh. And happy bday to Leebot


	5. Chapter 5: Starting Off with Masquerades

**A/N: WE HAVE COFFEE!!! I FEEL LIKE A GHETTO LIBERATED FROM THE NAZIS! Hahahahahaha! Happy, happy, joy, joy, happy, happy joy.**

**Dedication: Kieli, number one person on the list! Wonderful, wonderful person and brilliant, brilliant writer! **

**Who is to Blame?: G**l, for slapping me into reality. Sarah Brightman for her operatic voice *fangirls*, and Life for its ironies and lessons.  
**

**So sit back and enjoy this piece of shitty fiction. I hope it somehow fits into the category of "readable" fanfiction, if not good. **

**

* * *

  
**

**STARTING OFF WITH MASQUERADES**

**-**

**-  
**

Outside it reigned silver, not gold.

The sun had sunk to the abysmal depths in the sea and the moon shone brightly in the heavens like a mirror of light. It flooded the city in warm, silver brilliance and turned the buildings into sparkling broken shards of glass that reflected the silver hue back into the heavens. The small apartment by the south was turned into a specter of moonlight and the rooms of the petite building where bathed in silver glow.

Shizuru lay on her side as she watched Natsuki sleep peacefully under the glow of the full moon. Dark hair and silver moonlight dribbled on the bed like washed paint.

She nuzzled her nose against Natsuki's warm neck. The blanket was wrapped around Natsuki's lithe body like a lacey evening gown. The moon blinked, and the room was engulfed in fierce silver hue. Shizuru closed her eyes and embraced Natsuki as the stars shone like Arthurian knights dancing before the round table.

She opened her eyes. The room became a house of mirrors; the walls were pleated with cold, polished steel and shiny, fragile mirrors. Shizuru stood up and walked towards the center of the room where a hundred copies of her stared back at her. She was everywhere. She was all over the walls.

'_Carnivale' _

She walked away from a hundred backs that faced her. Natsuki slept on. She cocked her head to her left as her brows creased in amusement. There was something new about the night. There was something different with the midnight air. It seemed to be morning, but when she looked out into the glassless windows, she saw the moon and the moon saw her_. 'Are you asking me to dance again?' _

She went back to the bed and sat down. Her eyes were focused on Natsuki's sleeping form but her face bore a dead expression. She stared and sat like a lifeless mannequin. Her lips wore neither smile nor frown. Her eyes bore neither hate nor love.

'_Shizuru…'_

Her emotions were stirred upon hearing the faint sound. She crouched and planted a soft kiss on Natsuki's bare shoulder. _'Shizuru…' _"Natsuki…" She whispered breathily into the pale earlobe that swam underneath black rivers. "It's asking me to dance again. Should I?"

Natsuki grunted in her sleep. Shizuru laughed faintly.

It was a masquerade: The halls were painted a glorious tint of silver. The moon was the host and it asked her to dance – dance again! She shook her head. "No. I'm through with you." It grew rounder and spun furiously like a wheel. "I'm through with you", she hissed. Her mouth crept upwards as she pursed her lips viciously; she turned back into the snake that she became years ago when the same sinister moon asked her to dance. "Besides, my partner is resting."

She threw a glance at the picture on the table to her left. It was a picture of them: sweet sixteen, uniform girls, dancers, himes. And suddenly, everything turned bittersweet.

…

'_Carnivals start with masquerades.' _

She snuggled closer to the sleeping ice princess.

--

Lo! T'was a Masquerade! Paper faces on Parade! Everyone was someone else. _'Fujino-sempai!' 'Shizuru oneesama!'_, they danced around her gaily, with orange tops and brown skirts. The masks smiled innocently; shunning away the ugly faces that hid underneath them. They waltzed to the voices of spring. Spring! The season of life! That single season when life was gay, when all was as sweet as the nectar that gushed freely from newly blossomed flowers. _'Fujino!' 'Shizuru-sama!' 'Oneesame!' _

The floors of Fuuka sparkled magnificently. A plethora of smiles swam around her. She gazed at all of them; perfectly sculpted to conceal the deformities, the frowns, the tears. Her mask did not falter, her mask outshone the rest. She was the center of the merry go round of soulless faces and they tirelessly danced around her faster and faster until they were merely a flash of rotating tangerine light.

She felt dizzy and tired of the swooning faces_. 'They are all the same.' _ She removed herself from the dance floor and walked towards the gardens in hope of catching a glimpse of spring at its best. But what she found there was winter who was crushing spring flowers with pallid hands.

The poets were liars all along! Kami! Such an atrocious mistake it was to call Spring the season of beauty! Spring's beauty was nothing compared to winter's! And spring was not the season of life! No! Such fools, such fools were they for saying so! For winter bore the beauty of eternal youth! The perfectly shaped face was framed by black waterfalls. Her tender features bore the promises of springtime and her body…Kami! Her body was faultless! Each curve, each bend, and each exposed cadaverously pale skin – Paler and smoother than porcelain! Softer than snow! – spoke of beauty beyond mortal imagination! Beauty untouchable and beyond comparison!

All around her was barrier of ice. The garden had turned into a wintry paradise of long silver grass, trees with diamond leaves, and crystal flowers that stood on icicle stems. Shizuru took of her mask – that golden face of a martyr – and walked slowly.

"You shouldn't do that."

The sun was a cat's eye, the heavens a fading blue.

"Beautiful flowers are to be loved since it's doing its best to bloom during its short life."

--

Ball Masque. Her disguise? _Just a friend. That's all. _

--

She opened her eyes and it was morning. Alarmed by the sight of the blue skies and cotton candy clouds, she immediately sat up and shook her sleeping partner.

"Natsuki…Natsuki you're going to be late."

"Ten more minutes please…"

Her mouth crept upwards as she pursed her lips viciously; she turned back into the snake that she became years ago when the same fading sky lost to a murderous night. She bent down and hungrily licked the helpless pale earlobe that swam underneath black rivers.

"I'm awake!!! I'm awake!!!" Natsuki writhed helplessly with widened eyes.

-

* * *

-

Matalim stared at the road maps above her and Shizuru sat beside her, crossed-legged and writing discourses on 'Things that Natsuki didn't want to hear about' – Macroeconomics. Something was different about Matalim…something wasn't right. _'She's unusually quiet today.'_

The birds sang 'Un Bel dia'. Matalim yawned and stretched her arms up in the air awkwardly. _'How did I get here? Oh…I remember now…'_

"We met in a masquerade ball." She unconsciously said in a loud voice which made Matalim turn around in her seat to give her a good old fashioned 'Clint Eastwood' stare.

"If I remember correctly, we met in an airport two years ago."

"It was a masquerade ball – everyone was pretending." Shizuru replied composedly as she placed her pen and notebooks aside.

"Eh…uhm…" Matalim scratched her head in confusion. "What was your costume back then? I seem to have forgotten…"

"The lady of the night", Shizuru replied with a bewitching smile.

"The virgin most pure and most divine! I remember now. And I? What was I back then?"

"The young adventurer from the other side of the world. The ball was held in your honor. The motif of the masquerade was Red and white."

"And how did it occur?"

"With a most unusual introduction…"

They turned their heads to look at the robins that were perched on the peach tree to their right. The little creature opened its mouth wide and spoke in a female's voice:

"Flight 52 is now boarding. I repeat, Flight 52 is now boarding."

--

The sun was a bronze shield on the bleeding sky. She was frustrated. Natsuki was supposed to take her out to the movies but when she was about to take her leave, Ramota-sensei entered the faculty room and –

"Ah! Fujino-sama! Matalim-san from the University of the Philippines will arrive today! You're going to be associate dean soon so why not start with your duties this instant? Her arrival time is 5:30 pm. Now go out there and dazzle the young professor with your killer charms! After all, you are the muse of the Social sciences department."

--

'_Kannin na Natsuki.' __**'I understand, take care.'**_ '_I will. I love you.'_ _**'Mhmm…same here.' **_BEEP. She placed the celphone back in her brown handbag's front pocket. She sighed in frustration as she stared blankly at the large glass that covered the entire building like cellophane walls.

From the horizon, the planes looked like pink doves that glided across the air with long, unbending wings. Wave after wave of faceless masks entered and exited the airport. Each mask bore neither eyes nor nose. There was but a mouth; merely a frowning bulk on the lower portion of their faces. She stared at a certain pack of them – all dressed in formal wear_. _

"Bussiness Men." She said to no one in particular as she crossed her legs gracefully. Clean businessmen dressed in black suits? She shook her head inwardly. _'Good businesses, especially the successful ones, are never clean.' _ And yet their masks shone like alabaster, like the lustrous metal skin of the air bus that landed. It fluttered downward from the burning heavens like a titanic flying fish with looking glass scales and eyes.

-

A female electronic voice boomed from huge speakers, announcing with a synthesizer voice:

"Flight 42A from Manila, Philippines has arrived."

-

"Good afternoon Mr. Archer. I am Mr. Yoshimaru of the Bushido steel company."

"Pleasure meeting you sir. Cordillera Pines is glad to do business with you and your company."

"The night life here in Japan is something that you must…not…"

The little chat was brought to an abrupt stop when Shizuru passed them by; her hair waved like laces as she walked towards the left gate. The crowds were too thick so she decided to stand near the vendo machine.

She straightened her mahogany colored skirt and adjusted the collar of her purple trench coat as she pondered on how she would greet the foreigner.

'_Our first face is always a mask and introductions are nothing more but charades. The faces we wear on first meetings are made to impress, to deceive, to make others believe that we are who they see.'_ She said to herself as she fixed her posture. _'Appearances are important in everything.'_

The businessmen, with their saintly masks of ivory and alabaster, continued to talk among themselves about how good and how happy they were to share each others' interests. She smiled courteously at a particular gentleman who turned to look at her. _'Your interests are your own interests. You strive for your own needs and not for the needs of the company. You smile because you're happy that his propositions would serve your interests. No. Companies are never about people. They are about one person.' _

He waved at her and the crevice on his mask slinked upward to form a smile. _'And you're not being friendly. No. You just want to get laid tonight after you're done with your 'ethical' duties as a CEO.' _

CLINK! CLINK! Metal against metal. She turned around and saw a young woman in a tail coat. _'A musician?' _But she examined the figure beside her and found no musical instrument.

"Putang'nang first class trip `yan. No root beer?! Fucked up service…" The accent was thick: The R's resounded and the syllables slapped against the tongue. _'Indian?'_ The eyes were eagle eyes; curved at the tip and sharp in their gaze. The nose was well pronounced, the bridge was curved perfectly but the tip was a bit flat. _'Hawaiian?' _ Her skin was golden brown. _'Definitely South East Asian'_.

"It's a shame that I spotted you first." The woman said in a sooty voice.

"Kannin na." She bowed politely. "Too many people are at the arrivals section."

"You must be Miss Shizuru Fujino, my temporary slave girl." The woman said without looking at her.

Shizuru was supposed to retaliate with a comeback. But this was a masquerade and the dance begged for perfection and grace.

"Be my tour guide SLASH! Living dictionary SLASH! Thesaurus SLASH! Speller and grammar checker and carry some of my bags for me – A.K.A my personal, temporary Japanese slave girl. Clear as mud?"

Eagle eyes were upon her. They examined her intently with burnt black orbs. Shizuru cocked her eyebrow in amusement. This one mask was a gato mask: filled to the brim with malice. She suddenly felt uncomfortable.

-

"It's called hospitality Matalim-san."

"No, it's called corporate slavery. You're here because Mr. Ramota forced you to." Matalim flicked the tail of the coat with her right hand.

'_Ara…so you know this is a masquerade.' _She smiled calmly and rested her arms on her sides. "But I could've refused Matalim-san. But-"

"I know! Here you are now, wasting your time when you should be somewhere else." They smiled at each other. "Arigato, Miss Fujino." Matalim bowed lowly before her.

"You're very welcome, Matalim-san." They stared at each other while two monstrous flying fishes took off with a loud roar.

"Your eyes…they have such an unusual color! Pray tell, do your corneas menstruate?"

"I beg your pardon?!" She asked, ignoring the taunting tone in Matalim's previous statement.

Boisterous laughter filled her ears. "Gomen! I couldn't help myself. But seriously, they are a very lovely color."

--

The birds sang 'Salve Regina' with harmonica voices.

--

"I thought you were vain." Shizuru said in between laughs.

"I wanted you to think so." Matalim sighed distastefully.

"Why?"

"You were too flawless and I thought a little 'intimidation' wouldn't hurt." Matalim shrugged nonchalantly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"You seemed different then."

"How?"

"I can't explain how. Just…Different. You're more 'yourself' now."

"That's because we were in a masquerade back then. It was held in an opera house made of glass."

"Yes, for the gallant black knight of the pearl of the orient."

"And for the muse who wore the grandest mask."

They stood up and walked away from robins that announced the arrival of flights with synthesizer voices and birds that sang "O Sole Mio" with Dean Martin's deep voice.

-

* * *

-

It was night. The blue sky faded away to reveal the evils of the heavens.

She climbed up the shabby steps with a serene expression on her face. She clasped her hands together like a monk in deep prayer. Oh! And was she not in deep prayer? Why, she was on her way to visit a Goddess! And her steps grew wider and faster as she climbed up the grotto, towards the shrine where the maiden of ice resided.

-

"Natsuki! I'm home!" She called out cheerfully as she stepped into the petite room.

Natsuki was sprawled on the sofa; her arms and legs dangled feebly on the edges and she snored noisily. Her white polo shirt was an artist's messy palette; smeared with sweet bright red blots and sour maze fluid.

Shizuru quietly closed the door behind her and walked towards her sleeping goddess.

She kneeled before the ethereal beauty. _Genuflection before the holy altar._

Bowed her head and leaned forward. _Whispering psalms to winter._

And planted a chaste kiss on Natsuki's forehead. _Blessed Sacrament, accept my praise._

_-  
_

Memories of wintry afternoons in spring flashed back: frowning angel's face, blue skirts, orange jackets, bright colored ribbons that stood on their tips whenever the skies inhaled their prayers of love, and – she giggled aloud upon remembering it – expensive underwear. She licked the salty moisture on her lips as she walked towards the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror and the mirror stared back, eyeing her every movement with questioning eyes that shone of late afternoons and fiery masquerade balls. She did not age. The girl in the mirror did not change at all. It was the beautiful same face that stared back at her a long, long time ago. And yet…something was different. Was it her lips? No. Her eyes? Certainly not! Wrinkles? Not a single bloody crinkle.

Shizuru checked her body for any changes as the shower rained down on her. Nothing. Not a single alteration. And yet she felt that it was not the same sensuous body that she used to wash a long, long time ago.

She dressed herself in a simple yellow yukata. Perhaps she grew taller or perhaps she lost weight. It was neither. She stared at her bare belly until the silky yellow cloth covered it. She glanced at the sleeping goddess on the sofa. Natsuki has not changed, has she? She smiled faintly to herself.

Outside the moon shone gold, not silver. It blinks – that spirited golden sphere – while the stars sparkled temperately of silver and cherry.

Shizuru turned the television on. A male reporter spoke; his monotonous voice echoed through the room.

"The prime minister sent 200,000 kilos of relief goods to typhoon ravaged countries in South East Asia."

"It is in this time of need that we must prove our worth to our Asian brothers and sisters."

She bit her lip in annoyance. What were they up to now? It was the same case with World War 2! The government's theatrical performances as benevolent protagonists weakened the defenses of many countries.

-

TRUST.

It rendered a man, a nation helpless.

_Everything is a masquerade_

_-  
_

Natsuki awakened from her slumber with an audible yawn. She looked at Shizuru with half prodded eyes. Shizuru heard the rustling of cottons and she knew that Natsuki was awake. She turned to look at the sofa, at winter who sat upright with seas for eyes.

"You were dreaming of something."

"Fuuka." Natsuki replied groggily as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands

"I see." Shizuru turned her head towards the window to hide her frown "Go back to sleep. It's too early to wake up."

"I have to clean up." And Natsuki stood up and dragged her feet towards the bathroom while Shizuru continued to stare at the television with unblinking eyes.

-

"We are merely doing our duties, not as a sovereign government, but as a charitable institution of values." Charades. Poker faced. What would they ask for in return? Favors are 'I owe you's. The prime minister bowed solemnly before the swarm of microphones and cameras. He wore an unblemished red mask and he proudly walked away from the microphone stand with an immaculate smile on his lips.

She turned the television off and found herself staring back at her from the dark zappy screen in front of her.

-

"You masqueraded around as a friend of hers." **"**_**You're more 'yourself' now." **__"The muse who wore the grandest mask."_ "Fujino-oneesama!" **"I'm grateful to you."**

"**But don't get too close to me." **Shizuru stood up from her seatand walked towards the glassless windows where the golden moon awaited her.

"**Please." **_Her_ eyes were on the stars; sparkling rubies, tiny late afternoon suns. Her face turned golden upon moonlight's gentle stroke.

"Kannin na." She smiled sadly. "I couldn't resist you. You were-"

-

"Too powerful…" Natsuki watched the tiny drops of water on hair fall down like stars falling from the night sky.

"You were too good to be true, Shizuru…" She dried herself with a beige towel. Water dripped from the faucet like tears. Each drop broke into fractures of small crystals whenever they met the broken tiles on the floor.

"Actually, you still are." Natsuki smiled to herself. She checked her face for any changes. _'I still look like a high-school punk' _

"How did we get here?" She asked as she played with a few strands of her moist hair.

"I brought us here." Shizuru said as she opened the old cabinet and took out a wooden box from its dusty insides.

-

* * *

-

"Shizuru?" Natsuki stepped out of the shower. She saw Shizuru standing by the glassless windows. But Kami! It was her! Perfectly the same! The exact Shizuru years ago when the moon bled of glittery blood and Fuuka was rampaged by orphans and that wicked, wicked thing called love! And she felt petrified, she felt weak, she felt overpowered by beauty! By the same perfect beauty that stood defiantly against the golden summer winds that swept the room clean of dirt!

Lo! Twas a gala night! Golden masks outshone the moon and pretty faces outdid the beauty of the night! Natsuki forgot her costume yet again and she stood with liquefying legs in front of Shizuru who was clothed in the same old clothes! The same clothes that shook her with fear, terror and love: the white uniform, the brown pleated skirt, the rose-colored tie. She gasped audibly when Shizuru turned around to face her.

"Shizuru what's up with you?" She felt embarrassed, uncomfortable, bare – BARE! Where was her mask? How would she impress Shizuru? She was wearing but a baggy blue t-shirt and brown shorts. She was improperly dressed for the masquerade! She gulped her shame down, down into the abysmal depths of her being.

"I just wanted to see if I still look good in this uniform." The answer was honest, short, and followed by a gentle giggle. The same giggle, the same sinister yet sweet giggle that filled her ears years ago when the moon was wounded with a cancerous star.

"You won't change…" She assured as she approached Shizuru.

"Apparently I have." She was received with an embrace.

"I fail to see…"

"That's because you never look." They reversed positions. Natsuki hugged Shizuru from behind.

-

"Shizuru…my Shizuru…my Shizuru…" Shizuru could only chuckle weakly as Natsuki planted kiss after kiss after kiss on the back of her head and on her neck. Natsuki felt a sudden surge of unbounded passion explode in her body. She felt renewed, she felt years younger, she felt so in love! So dramatically in love it was so sweet, it was so dreadfully sweet that it made her feel pain, that it made her panic and tighten the embrace! And she was overflowing with love – the same love that overtook them years and years ago when the moon was sinisterly silver, not romantically gold.

"I looked and I saw you." Natsuki said as she buried her face into the Shizuru's hair. The same hair, the same Shizuru. She felt rejuvenated! She felt as if she was back in time, reliving, relishing, taking what she regretted, what she neglected years and years ago when stars were fake stones up in the sky, not rubies.

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did!"

"No. No you did not. You felt…you felt your way around me."

Something was different about the night. It seemed old and not new. It seemed to be the same old night when the moon was scarred and the stars were replaced by glittering green orbs – ashes of the dead. _'You masqueraded around as a friend of hers'_ Voices angered by death. _'Don't we all do? Aren't introductions and getting-to-know's merely masquerades? Games of charades?'_

"I guess you're right again." She did not want to argue.

Outside the moon shone of gold, not silver. It blinked and moonlight broke free from its body like solar winds! It shone like a sun and the city turned hazy under its feverish caress. And they were in Versailles! Each wall a painting! The ceiling, a fiasco!

"Hide your face so the world will never find you." Shizuru said as she turned around to face Natsuki. "I was taught to be like that. I was taught how to be successful." She added timidly as she bent her down to look at her feet like a dismayed child.

"Politics?"

"No. It's called living, Natsuki. Life is masquerade. Those who don't wear masks aren't allowed to dance. And those who don't dance are left to wallow in the darkness of the room, left to mercy of murderous nights and sunless winters…" She explained calmly.

"And moonless nights…" Natsuki pressed herself closer until their breaths mingled in the golden air like vapor.

"And ice queens…" Closer. There wasn't any space left for vapor or moonlight.

"Who mercilessly stole hearts…" Closer. They were merging.

"Who melted masks without even knowing it" Closer. Her lips were approaching.

"She melted masks with a single glance." Tighter. Her arms were the same strong arms.

"Without even looking at the dancer. She melted the golden one, the best one, the most perfectly crafted mask by crushing innocent flowers." Tighter. Her hands are the same hands that killed you and brought you back to life.

"I love you." A kiss on the forehead made her heart jump.

"Shhh…you aren't supposed to say that yet." She kissed back.

"I love you." A kiss. This time, on the lips.

"I'm not finished with my lines." She reasoned.

"I love you." A kiss. On the lips again. They shone of gold, not silver.

-

"Ikezu…" She said with gritted teeth. Sad. Kisses were not eternal. Glad. She would be kissed forever and though kisses are not eternal, love and Natsuki is evermore.

"I love you." A kiss. Much longer than the previous ones. _'Don't stop…don't stop now…The Masquerade is starting.'_

"And melted hearts with a single kiss…" She continued feebly; her voice trailed off like violin notes.

Lo! Twas a masquerade! And the motif was gold! And they were not dancing! NO! such madness it was to dance! Why dance when you can kiss? Why dance when you can hold each other stably under the feverish night, under the toil of golden moonlight while stars dangle dangerously from the fiasco of the heavens like chandeliers.

Carnivals start with Masquerades and everything starts with masquerades. Love blossoms into passion just as lovers start as friends. They started off with a masquerade: _She_, the queen of the night, **she**, the Byronic chevalier from the other side of the world. _She_, the innocent one, **she**, the unfeeling and distant avenger.

A kiss. _'One more please…'_

It was once again bright and it was a wintry afternoon in spring where ice crystals stood on icicle stems, while diamonds grew on trees like apples. And did they change? No! no one has changed! The world changed but they stayed the same! The world was crueler and nights were now colder but they- they were still the same lovers. Lovers in love until the world ends, until the moon swallows the sun and the sky swallows the moon. Life may end, life may perish! Let it be! Let it be! Forever will they kiss in Wintry afternoons in spring where everyone else was a mask, where everything else was distant, where they were theirs and theirs alone to take, to love, to kiss, to dance with.

-

The Carnival has ended, and so did the masquerade balls.

-

"I just remembered something."

"What is it?" Shizuru asked as she bathed Natsuki's bare neck with her hot kisses.

"Two years ago we were supposed to go on a date. But your asshole boss asked you to pick up some weirdo client. Remember?"

"Yes. I'm glad Natsuki remembers that she owes me a date."

"It's still early. So…" Her voice trailed off like synthesizer voices in the airport.

"I'll go change," Shizuru said before she planted a quick kiss on Natsuki's nose.

"Shi-Shizuru can you wear a kimono tonight?"

"Anything for Natsuki."

A kiss. Not the last one. Sweeter than the rest but sweeter ones are yet to come.

-

She took her purple Kimono out of the cabinet. The same one, the same kimono masquerades ago when the moon was crueler than the world and the world was on the verge of destruction.

She took a golden mask out of the kimono's sleeves. The same mask, the same face. She looked at it. It was brighter than the moon but her face was brighter, more golden, more beautiful than the mask.

"I almost forgot…"

-

She threw it out of the window. The moon followed it as it fell. It broke into drops of water when it met the hard pavement.

-

"I'm ready."

-

Outside it reigned gold, not silver.

...

* * *

-

-

Life is Masquerade and we all wear paper faces. I am neither. I am both.

When spoken to, I am your calm, collected, average, lowly nobody. When thinking, I am Vladimir Lenin, Hitler, and Queen Elizabeth all in one. When with ****, I am Lord Byron. When with *****, I am Benito Mussolini. When with ****, I wouldn't even harm a fly. When with *****, I eat babies alive.

Reviews are love. They inspire me! They fuel me up like coffee! Go forth my friends and click zeh evol button of Nazi doom below zis' textz.


	6. Chapter 6: Shortage

**No happy valentines day. I'm an evil non-conformist bitch sometimes. Deal with it.**

**This is a very Natsuki centered fic. I don't think anyone has noticed this, but this whole fanfic has a pattern. **

**A/N: Yes, I know that some of you are thinking: "You fool, its MISO soup, not MIZU soup." MIZU stands for water! How can water be soup? My answer would be: Exactly my point. The pun is intended. I shan't spoil the story to you so wallah! Just enjoy! I'll be climbing Mt. Makiling tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to catch a glimpse of the famed mountain goddess. Anyway, I might've gotten a bit draggier than the usual. **

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**SHORTAGE: MIZU SOUP. **

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They just ran out of Miso soup.

She hastily closed the cabinet's doors before she walked crabbily towards the square, wooden table beside the kitchen counter. Her stomach took a life of its own and growled threateningly upon the absence of breakfast. Its primal screams for nourishment frustrated her greatly, so Natsuki pounded the table with her pale fists.

"Shizuru…Shizuru baka! You know I can't even fry an egg!" She hissed as she stomped her left foot on the aged wooden floor. Shizuru left three hours ago for her seven o'clock class-

"And she didn't even leave me with something to just heat in the microwave…" She said in a weak tone as she stomped her right foot. The floor creaked meekly in response. Natsuki threw her head backwards in sheer exasperation and allowed her senses to be thrilled and annoyed by the million obscene noises that the city gave birth to with every fleeting moment: the humming of greasy engines, the singing of wind chimes, the hundred different pop songs that boomed from the radios outside, the rustling of leaves, the crowing of the roosters, the barking of dogs at passer bys, and –

"That damned wall clock's ticking!" she gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to be reminded of how late for class she was.

The glass of warm milk stood on the center of the table. She yawned loudly as she took it in her hands. She scanned the room with half lidded eyes. Shizuru cleaned up yesterday and not a single speck of dust survived the fury of her mop and broom. _"She cleans up pretty darn well!",_ Natsuki thought as she drank the warm milk. She raised her head to look at the wall clock above her and after a few minutes of reading inverted numbers, she gasped and shook her head in annoyance.

"I hate Tuesdays." She spat out with such venom that for a moment she rivaled the viciousness of Shizuru's child, Kiyohime. "I hate Tuesdays!" Natsuki repeated in a growl as she stood up and marched towards the bathroom.

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Her stomach was an angry predator.

It put the Ducati's engine to shame by growling through out the ride. The wind slapped her helmet and fallen leaves greeted her like confetti. The warm milk did her no good. She placed her moist left hand on her grumbling stomach and patted it. The petting was as useless as the warm milk though.

She sped through green light after green light and passed car after car. Their apartment was only seven miles away from the university but despite this short distance, Natsuki was ALWAYS twenty to thirty minutes late for every single first class. Shizuru said she was suffering from two diseases: "The near house syndrome", a fatal disease that led to her "ten more minutes' syndrome." And she hated to admit it, but God-fucking-damn it, Shizuru's diagnoses were absolutely correct.

Red Light.

The engines came to an abrupt stop but her stomach continued to grumble. She wished there was a red light for life, a siesta break from its dastardly dilemmas. But problems aren't quitters, "And that's why you shouldn't back out on them", she said to herself as she leaned on her right foot. She watched the cars come and go from the roads ahead through the tinted glass of her helmet. In her eyes the sky was blue grey, the asphalt was darker, and the peoples' skins were intact but decaying. She peeked at her wrist watch. "Great," she did not break her record. "Twenty five minutes late for-", there was a sudden buzzing on her right thigh. She took her vibrating celphone out and read the message:

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10:27 / Physics 14. CLASSMATE. [ Reply ] [ Delete ]

Hullo every1! Koh sensei can't cme 2day coz she's at some seminar. We R havin a free cut. She says do Expriment 31 on ur lab manuals. Dis is 2 b passed on Friday! Be well! See you guyz nxt meeting!

[ Back to Inbox ]

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CLICK! She locked her celphone's keypad and slid the shiny red object back into her pant's left pocket. _"So much for breakfast and for messing up the organized cabinet just to get dressed in four minutes! Shizuru is going to kill me!',_ she mentally slapped herself.

-

She looked at the traffic light that seemed to be a dark tower, a fortress lording over the vehicles that zoomed noisily like large bullets. "The Asphalt emperor", She unconsciously said aloud. Her eyes fell on the canals; agape mouths that drooled muddy saliva. She watched the movements of the black waters that glided across the dark cement, and noticed that there was a small splash below the traffic light where the canals met. She beheld a kitten, a fragile little creature standing defiantly against the rapid waters that charged against it like an angry river.

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It was merely two weeks old. Its gummy pink skin was delicately furred and caked with mud and grease. Its nose was a small peach nub that protruded through layers of damp bushy fur. It crouched motionlessly on a bed of pebbles while it stared blankly into space with coals for eyes. Its legs were chopsticks wrapped in dirty rags, blistered to the bone and bleeding blood and sludge.

Natsuki watched as it breathed heavily; creating ripples on the dark waters' surface, while its tail dangled helplessly on the pebbles like a tiny, lifeless eel. The site revived something primal in her, something more carnal than hunger or lust and more gripping than hate or love. It was fear. She stared into its eyes and felt its hopelessness, its despair, its weariness. _'Weariness from what?'_ She asked herself while the traffic light blinked a bright shade of red.

She looked at its eyes intently and allowed herself to be sucked into the black holes; dead suns deprived of light, deprived of life. Its face bore no bewilderment, no suffering – not anymore; only an utter hopelessness, a terrible resignation. She realized as she stared and stared into the dull orbs, that she was staring at herself all along. Through those eyes, those jet black orbs, her face and her bike was reflected. It was a mirror all along - darkened amber! And suddenly she saw, instead of a dirty kitten, a young girl crouched over the jagged rocks, looking out into the dark sea that reflected the starry night sky while she wept for herself, for every single bruise in her little body, for every wasted little drop of blood, for every single drop of tear that she shed, for a drowned mother and a drowned pet.

At once she knew what the kitten was weary from, for the same tormenting weariness took over her mind, heart, and soul, nights and stars ago when sweet short-lived memories took a turn for bitter lasting moments. It was weariness from life. She knew that the kitten had secluded itself into the pebbly raft and had treated the pebbles as its only world, for she had done so herself when no part of her body was left unbruised and blood gushed like waves on a brutal sea.

She wondered where the little kitten's parents were. Maybe they were just around the corner, or a few blocks away from the main road. She bit her lip and shook her head slightly. _'Or maybe they were dead.' _Yes, probably dead. She tapped her right foot on the floor and dust fluttered around it like a swarm of angry bees. And then it occurred to her, that wherever the kitten's parents may be, it only led to one conclusion: the kitten was alone and orphaned.

She gulped down the sour bile that begged to escape her throat while the kitten continued to crouch on his throne of broken pebbles. She was an orphan herself, a helpless waif left to the mercy of the world. And it stung her heart to think and ponder on what the kitten must've felt to lose, to be removed from its dear mother's embrace in such a young age, in such a weak state.

How cruel, Kami, how cruel it was to remove children from their sole source of strength, from their guiding light! But she knew that the world takes pleasure in leaving little girls and little cats to mourn on pebbly rafts that float on dark water. She saw that life dimmed within its eyes just as moons shun their eyes away from the sight of weeping children and just as governments turned their backs against the powerless' cries for justice. She shared the kitten's burdens and felt the kitten's pain. She wanted to reach out and pet it as if it were her growling stomach and whisper into its ear: _I know. I know. _

It had just been given a taste of life and yet how swiftly, how sudden that sweet taste was taken away from its mouth! It was just beginning life and already it was confronted with death. It lived, breathed, and looked out with living coals for eyes but its spirit no longer resided within its tiny body – no! The kitten was dead in spirit. It had already surrendered its hopes and dreams to death.

With each passing second its eyes grew dimmer and dimmer. Natsuki knew that those eyes – those dim eyes that possessed neither fear nor hope – used to be her eyes. It horrified and amused her. But when the kitten noticed that Natsuki was staring at it, a spark of life grew in its coal eyes. It opened its toothless mouth and purred weakly as if it drew its last breath to tell Natsuki its tale or its last will and testament. It purred so weakly that she was scarcely sure she heard it and considered taking off her helmet.

She was stunned and amazed by the faint glow of light that shimmered shyly in its dark eyes so she simply sat uncomfortably on her bike's leather cushion while her mind began to wonder if it was righteous of her to leave her bike in the middle of the traffic just to remove the kitten from the canal.

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Time ticked, the kitten purred, Natsuki thought and felt and thought while the sun dried the leveled grass on the park and the canals poured their anger out the pebbly raft, and soon second thoughts, third thoughts– Aha! Two thoughts more!

What if its mother comes back for it? Who am I to interfere with nature's laws? Where will I put it? No street is safe for any cat! She considered taking a scratch paper from her backpack and perhaps, yes, she would use it to carry it out of the muddy water. But what was she to do next? Where would she place the kitten? Aha! The apartment! But no! That would be a waste of time and gas! "Baka!" She exclaimed amidst the confusion and the inner turmoil that she fought.

She looked up and saw that the traffic had already turned to green. It appeared that she could do nothing practical for the kitten and she felt embarrassed to be seen prying with a little cat. Imagine! A grown woman, stopping in the middle of traffic just to meddle with a kitten! How the public would laugh at it! She flushed at the thought of it and straightened up a bit precipitately.

So with heavy foot and heavy heart, she stepped on the engine and drowned the timid purrs with its monstrous sounds. She chose to obey the asphalt emperor. Afterall, she swore allegiance to it, in exchange for a driver's license. She proceeded on her way with much reluctance.

Her thoughts, however, kept returning to the kitten; even in the classroom where she waited for Shizuru to teach her SOCSCI 2 class. She decided to sit in her beloved's class since she had nothing else to do and because she knew that Shizuru would be able to chase her troubles away. She fidgeted in her seat like a child in her first day in school.

-

But Shizuru was late today and Natsuki could not help wondering what caused her delay. The students were scattered all over the classroom in contrast to the chairs which were aligned perfectly in eleven rows. A young man sat beside her, reading a bundle of wrinkled papers. He sniffed as he adjusted the round glasses on his long nose. Natsuki watched as his wheat colored skin stretched against his bony features. The fact that Shizuru was twenty minutes late for her class disturbed her greatly, so she decided to ask her 'temporary' seatmate about Shizuru.

"Excuse me," She began in a soft voice, "Is the professor always this late?"

"Um…no, no!" The young man shook his head as he smiled at her shyly, "These instances are very rare and she usually informs us if she'll be late or absent", he continued with a slight bow. She was about to ask him if Shizuru gave hard exams when all of a sudden a certain boy with a purple Mohawk barged into the room and announced in a hoarse voice: "Prof's here!"

Natsuki fixed her blue shirt and took out a small notebook from her bag. She felt hungry again. _'There, there…'_ She said to her grumbling stomach, _'Shizuru will be here soon. After this class we can eat together. We'll go on a date.'_ It was a beautiful day after all. The sun was bright, the air wasn't too warm nor was it too cold, the sky was as blue as the sea, and Shizuru had a three hour break before her next class. She thought of how beautiful Shizuru looked. What was she wearing today? A nice blouse and a dark colored skirt to go with it, she supposed.

The kitten vanished from her mind and what was left was Shizuru, just beautiful Shizuru. And kami, she was thankful for it. Ugliness melted away into oblivion and was replaced by beauty. Thank heavens for beauty! Why can't everything be beautiful anyway? Why is there a need for ugliness? The world should've been made for beauty and for beauty alone! She smirked quietly at the thoughts that played in her head. They were mind boggling, yes. But at least they weren't ugly. At least they weren't thoughts on the kitten.

She smiled to herself as she pictured how Shizuru would react to her 'unexpected' sit in. Outside, the scraping of sandals was heard echoing through the halls. The students took their respective seats and Natsuki's smile grew wider and wider as the foot steps grew louder and louder, until there was a clicking at the door, a twist of the door knob and lo! That voice! That musical accent! That sweet, soft voice! That-

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"Shake a leg, rapscallions!" That loud, low voice with a thick South East Asian accent that made the R's resound…_'What?'_

'_WHAT?!'_ She wanted to scream out. But her tongue shrunk and her voice fell flat. Matalim's red sarong waved like a flag as she marched into the room with long, heavy strides. "Settle down sea dogs!" She reprimanded as she erased the writings on the white board with a rag. She saw the confused expression on the students' faces with her peripheral vision. "What's with the sour faces?", She asked in a taunting tone as she turned around to face the class. "Were you expecting someone prettier? Sorry to disappoint you mates, but this just ain't your lucky day", she continued as sat on the teacher's table.

The room was filled with sighs and whispers. Natsuki grew uneasy in her seat. The noises flooded the room like canal water. "Hoy!" Matalim's growl silenced the indistinct whispers, "I said settle your asses down." Matalim's eagle eyes became fierce in their gaze. She scanned the room for an open mouth, a whispering soul, a confused look. There was none. "Now," She said with a cocky smile, "On to business. Miss Fujino can't come to class today so she left me in charge of you rapscallions."

"Where's Fujino sensei?" A certain girl asked in a shrill voice. Matalim's gaze softened, the eagle eyes fell on the floor and a frown formed on her mouth.

"Pulalon-sensei, where is Fujino-sama?" Matalim's brows creased. She lowered her head and stared at the shiny, marble floor with emotionless eyes. Natsuki grew impatient for an answer, so she peeped out in a raspy voice, "Pulalon-sensei, we want to know where Fujino-sensei is."

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"She passed out", came the quick reply. "An hour ago we found her unconscious on the DSS faculty room. We rushed her to the nearby hospital, JGH."

Natsuki's palms became sweaty. Her fingers and toes twitched involuntarily. She turned pale as a sudden coldness pierced her heart like a steel blade. She wanted to shriek, to faint, to cry but she couldn't. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore.

"The doctors said she had an Aneurism," Matalim Pulalon continued with sad eagle eyes. "A vein must've popped in her head when no one was around-" WHAM! There was a sudden commotion at the back of the room. Someone threw her seat on the floor. The still air was broken by the sound of cracking wood accompanied by whispers.

Natsuki ran towards the door like a bolt of blue light. "Calm down!" Matalim ordered in a commanding voice that cackled like thunder. But Natsuki would not. No. She couldn't. "Ku- Hoy! Calm down!" Matalim called out again to no avail because Natsuki was no longer there. No! She could not, would not, dared not stay in that room. She ran, ran, ran like a bewildered beast across the hall and climbed down the stairs in such haste that she constantly tumbled on a few steps. She slipped two times? Three times? Darn it – so what if she slipped a few times? That wasn't important. She needed to get out of the building. She needed to see Shizuru now. NOW. Shizuru was in grave danger. '_Oh kami, no, no don't take her away. Don't take her away'._ She heard herself crying out as she ran towards her bike.

She threw her helmet on and started her engines. She drove manically, as if she was being chased by some unseen force. And wasn't she? She was! Death chased her through the road. And such a perilous road it was, Kami! Such a perilous road! She drove through that road everyday but it was never that long, that rough, and that dangerous! Only then did she realize how treacherous and how long the road from the university to the hospital was. For the first time she took note of how it winded and twisted unevenly, and how rough its surface was. She grew cautious with each turn and she grasped the handles tighter as she sped away from blinking green lights.

It crashed back down on her like a malfunctioning rocket: the kitten. The grumbling of her stomach subsided and was replaced by the pounding of her heart against her chest. It pounded so hard that she felt as if her rib cage would split, while her brain was racked over and over again by the image of the weary kitten and of an image of Shizuru lying in bed, lying so quietly so tranquilly it was otherworldly, it was a rest not meant for this world, it was so...she was so…

"DEAD!" She screamed and her voice echoed through her helmet. Yes, yes! Dead! Dead to the world but alive in her head! And her heart rammed itself inside her ribcage - it screamed to be released but no! Not now! Grow strong, be strong! She could not, would not, and dared not falter. She could not give up, she had to see Shizuru.

'_Oh road, shorten, if you have mercy. Oh sun! If you truly shine for the mortal kind, burn the traffic lights, burn all the other cars, the other bikes, burn the traffic enforcer that eyed her maliciously! And wind, oh wind! If you truly are a friend and no foe, a muse and not a phantom, then push, push the bike and give it wings! Give it wings so that it may fly and she may ride it like it's a Pegasi and soar high!'_

But alas! Alas! Life is life and life is cruel! The wind is a phantom and no friend, the sun was intent in burning all life, and the road, the road was simply long and the cement was colder than death! And Natsuki cried out with such sorrow. Such sorrow that she thought she wept blood! That she felt as if her heart would burst open! And oh, oh! She saw it all in her head: Doctors rushing in, Shizuru spitting blood, blood, blood while the room bled, bled, bled! She heard the voices of the people that gathered around Shizuru's bleeding bed as they stuck injections and metal tubes into her pale body: _'We'll have to cut!' 'Shit! Shit! Hemorrhage everywhere!' 'The brain's gone to the dogs!' 'More oxygen!'_ She made the engine roar to drown the voices in her head.

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Red light.

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She wanted to go but all the other vehicles in front of her stopped. There was no way through. She gritted her teeth and glared at the asphalt emperor that blinked playfully at her with a bright, red eye_. 'Relax, relax.'_ She told herself. She examined the area and realized that she had somehow retraced her steps. She found herself in the place with crossing canals that rippled upon the caress of kitten's breath. So she began to search the road for a sign of the kitten. She wanted to see how the kitten fared – if it was still alive and around.

It was around but not alive. She beheld, with widened eyes, what was left of the kitten: smashed entrails, a puddle of blood, and headless eyes. The remains laid lifelessly on the middle of the road. Apparently, the kitten somehow succeeded in crawling out of the muddy water. Perhaps it tried to cross the street, or maybe it was simply a suicidal creature, or…the other possibility rung in her head like a bell, maybe it tried to chase her a while ago and in the process it was ran over by some vehicle behind her. She shook her head as she stared at the corpse. _'No, no…you can't be dead. You should not have died!' _

The gore made forgotten memories resurface in Natsuki's consciousness. She suddenly remembered a certain distant cousin of her: a young man, aged twenty two, good natured, quite handsome, strong and able. He used to play with her when she was still six years old. She remembered how one day, after visiting her and her mother, the young man was on his way to school when all of a sudden a mysterious man ran towards him and slit his neck life tofu. Later on, they learned that the mysterious man was actually an assassin sent to kill a certain senator's son. "But he isn't a senator's son, he's my son!" She remembered how her aunt howled in front of the investigator. "I'm sorry ma'am," He said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. There was no pity in his eyes, no regret, no sympathy. "He looked a lot like the assassin's target." Shame. He aspired to become a young pilot and was in his last years of studying when his life ended due to a terrible mistake. Just a case of mistaken identity. Just another life gone to waste.

-

She recalled how one day she and papa were playing with Duran. They were having such fun and okaa-san came in through the door with a box of Takoyaki balls. They ate with such delight. It was a bright Sunday much like this Tuesday, and she watched as papa constantly pecked okaa-san's cheek. Okaa-san would occasionally blush and tickle papa. Papa would lie helplessly on the floor, giggling like a little boy and Natsuki would jump on his stomach and tickle him some more. One day, as bright as that Sunday and this Tuesday, she was playing with her shiny, green R.C when she heard something break like glass. So she ran up the stairs, towards the master's bedroom from where the sound came from. She was halfway through the stairs when okaa-san came stomping down with an angry look on her face. "Don't come near him, Natsuki." Okaa-san said in a sharp tone, in a voice that was similar to her growl.

-

Just like that, papa became unreachable, papa became a ghost, and the happy moments that the trio used to share became memories of the old, forgotten days.

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Green light.

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But this time, Natsuki got off of her bike. She approached the kitten with a sheet of paper in her trembling left hand. She was only a few meters away from the kitten when-

BEEP! BEEP!

It flashed back: childhood days of sitting on mama's lap while watching Sunday morning cartoons. Roadrunner was being chased by the Coyote again. She chuckled uncontrollably while mama stared at the television with blank eyes that showed no happiness, no amusement, no pity, no regret, no sympathy. Nothing.

Nothing, just like what was left of the remains of the kitten when a ten wheeler truck ran over it. Nothing. Nothing more but a darkened spot on the road. Nothing more but fleshy spit. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" the driver shouted as he passed Natsuki by. She stopped, blinked a few good times, and dragged herself towards her waiting motorbike. _'Nothing. But something is very wrong with life.'  
_

"Mama?" She asked in a weak voice. Suddenly the cartoon wasn't funny anymore. She took the shiny, black remote control in her little hands and turned the television off. Road Runner gave off his trademark 'beep! beep!' before his world turned black. And then, mama laughed.

Natsuki sped away from the canals, from the tiny piece of gore that lay on the streets. But she could not get away from regret, from the kitten. It still chased her even though it was dead. It still purred at her even though its lips were mashed, corrupted by the dirt on the tires of the merciless vehicles. She did not kill the kitten. No! it was the asphalt emperor! Why, he commanded the vehicles to go forth and smash the kitten! '_Do not stop even though there is a small, living, breathing, creature underneath your wheels! Crush it although it can feel pain, although it bleeds! Mind not its screams of anguish, my metal subjects!'_ And she became an object of it. Yes, she did! '_Yes you did, Natsuki! And you've been a very, very good girl for following!'_

She screamed at herself, at the road, at the traffic light that blinked at her with a shiny, green eye.

-

If only she had devoted five minutes, a minute, or even a few seconds to the kitten...If only she had not allowed those unwritten laws for adults to take hold of her rational being, then the kitten would still be alive. But it was all over now. At least it was out of its bloody misery. Not like her, not like her. She took a turn by the nearby drug store. It is said that a leaf falls but that God knows it; he takes care of all his creatures. What about that kitten? What about her distant cousin? What about Duran and mama? What about her and Shizuru?

The neon sign boards in front of her were not sites for sore eyes. They made sore eyes worse. She searched the parking lot for a vacant space. Most of the cars were painted a shiny coating of obsidian. Just like-

"Natsuki, hang on tight!"

Lights blinked at her from everywhere. They all said one thing: STOP! Their bright, red eyes flashed like stars. Natsuki embraced Duran. _'It'll be okay. Okaa-san's here.'_ Okaa-san was always there for her. _'So strong, so smart, so pretty. Okaa-san is stronger than papa. Okaa-san knows exactly what to do.' _ But when was life ever a fairytale?

-

Matalim-sensei always tells them: "Life is irony at its best."

-

Life is irony at its best. Indeed it is. And as they plummeted down into the water, into the sea that she loved to bathe in, she saw nothing else but dying suns: okaa-san's eyes. They say that water is life but it turned out that water was the ultimate killer after all. It was the ender of days, the murderer of dreams. She gazed around and saw nothing else but dark, dark water. Funny. She had always been fascinated by the sea. Teacher asked her: what is your favorite place on earth? Natsuki was always quick to answer: the beach. When it rained and clear puddle of waters formed on the crevices on the floor, Natsuki would always jump on it. Water, she used to argue, was the best element. But now she wanted to get off the beach, out of the water.

The sea around her wasn't the blue beauty that she drew in her childish scribbles; it was a threateningly dark blue that rivaled the night sky's blackness. She squealed helplessly as it began to spill through the slits on the car's body. "Natsuki! Come here!" Mother called out as blood gushed out of her forehead. Duran barked and howled like a wolf. "Mama!" She cried. The water covered half of her body.

Okaa-san pushed at the doors with all her strength. They would not bulge. "Natsuki, hang on tight." Mama said in a pleading tone. Her fists bled like her forehead. The crumpled front bumper bubbled. Natsuki began to panic and Duran continued to howl like a wolf. "Hang on tight my daughter, hang on tight." She tried to unroll the windows. Okaa-san heaved hard. Her face twisted in pain until at last, a slit. Mama struggled harder and the slit grew bigger. Water poured into the car and before she could even take a deep breath, Natsuki found herself swimming blindly in dark water.

Something or someone was pushing her. She looked at the doer of the action. It was okaa-san and she was pushing her out of the window. Her cheeks puffed up while bubbles exited her nostrils. Duran swam beside her, yelping feebly while foam formed on his mouth. She held on to mama's strong hand. Mama smiled at her. "Let go." The command was clear but she did not want to follow. Above her, red lights continued to shine like stars.

Just like that, in a blink of red eyes, the sea gave her a round of applause with its rolling waves, life ended. It was perfect prologue to a tragedy.

She swore that there was but one look in mama's eyes then. Okaa-san's eyes bore neither grief nor humor. They were the same eyes that laughed at the blank television screen - eyes that bore dying suns in them, eyes that bore no life, no light, no hope. They were the eyes of a dead kitten - crushed underneath a car's wheels. She thought of that Sunday morning and realized that Okaa-san, even though she lived, had already resigned herself to her fate. And it was a terribly resignation, more terrible than the eyes of a tortured prisoner, more terrible than eyes that bore death within them. Mama did not fear, mama did not feel brave either - she was just hopeless.

Natsuki woke up, embraced by jagged rocks that bit her skin and made her bleed. She looked at the sea below her, the murderous, foul sea that would spit out mother and Duran later on when it had already sucked the life out of them. The sea, the bringer and destroyer of life. She looked at it and saw herself in it.

And her eyes were dead eyes to.

-

Matalim-sensei's words rang out in her head. "Life is irony at its best. You can never expect the unexpected. Because, god fucking damn it, how can you expect it if it's unexpectable? If you expect the unexpected, then the unexpected becomes expected! So it's impossible to expect the unexpected! So whatd'ya do, rapscallions? You do not expect at all."

-

Sound advice. But it was very hard to follow. To be human is to expect, to hope, to wish. Not so long ago, she thought everything was boring and expected every single day in her life to be boring. Okaa-san was gone but papa, yes, papa, that two-timing bastard, he was still alive and 'shagging his bitch'. But Natsuki thought and expected him to still be papa. Her papa. Maybe he was someone else's lover now, but he was still her father. He sent her money and the shiny green bucks flooded her apartment like sea water.

She spent it on underwear, a flat screen TV, shiny mp4's…god damn it! The money was gonna come in anyway, it was endless like the sea. Each buck spent is gonna get replaced by another shiny paper. Papa would just send it all to her. He was expected to provide for her just as he was expected to sink his dirty, cock into his pig of a mistress' shitty cunt whenever he told okaa-san that he was out for "overtime". But one day, one faithful payday, after Shizuru got disowned by her "virtuous" mother, no package was sent to Natsuki.

It was just a delay. The banks must be fucked up. Or maybe the ATM is as fucked up as papa himself. She shrugged her shoulders and assured Shizuru: "It'll come, love. It'll be here in a short while." And she waited, and waited, while minutes turned to hours and hours turned to days. But still she waited. Papa is still papa. She was running out of money. It'll come, right? It will, right? So she waited and waited, while days turned to months and months turned to years. And she waited, and waited, and waited, and waited…

But the money never came.

And papa, who was nothing more but a ghost, turned into a figment of her being, a fleeting memory buried in the sands of time. He was nothing more but a name on her birth certificate, a name she would hold on to forever without endearment or love.

-

She parked Ducati near the exit. She quickly entered the hospital's premises. 'Xcuse me," Her words came out like a slang as she panted. The front desk nurse turned around to face her with a kind smile. "T-they brought someone here an hour ago named Fujino, Shizuru. She had an aneurism."

"Let me check, dearie", the middle aged woman typed Shizuru's full name on the computer in front of her while Natsuki tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. "You might want to wipe your face clean." The nurse said without even looking at her. "Thanks", Natsuki replied as she took her handkerchief out of her pants' left pocket.

After a few minutes of waiting, the nurse spun around in her seat and said, "I'm sorry. We don't have a Fujino, Shizuru here." Natsuki felt the cold blade sunk deeper into her heart, "A-are you sure? B-because-" "I'm sorry honey, but no Fujino, Shizuru checked into this hospital.", The nurse said with an apologetic look on her face. Natsuki felt tears form in her eyes again and her legs felt liquefied. Nevertheless her logical thinking got a hold of her senses and Natsuki spoke out in a weak tone: "Are you sure? She has chestnut colored hair, red eyes, she has a pretty face and I'm sure you won't miss her."

The nurse thought for a moment. "Well, I've been here all day long…and I didn't see anyone like-", Natsuki waved a picture of Shizuru in front of the nurse but the woman just shook her head. "I'm sorry dearie. But we just don't have that patient around here."

-

She exited the hospital with trembling steps. Where was Shizuru? God! Where was Shizuru?! The oblation stood proud and tall before her. She walked underneath its shadow. It was already a late afternoon. She spent the last five hours of her day checking and rechecking names, faces, rooms, and nearby hospitals for Shizuru. But the love of her life was nowhere to be found and Natsuki, drained of her strength, walked crabbily towards the parking lot of the Japanese General Hospital.

-

She sped through the familiar road and passed the same winding paths. She thought she lost something a long time ago when her eyes were dead suns, but someone brought life back into her eyes. Someone, a beautiful late afternoon sun lent Natsuki her light. And that light, aye, that light that outshone all other lights was given to her without her consent. She did not notice that the red sun's light had turned her blood into magma, had set her heart on fire, and had brought her back from the dead. A long time ago, she took that sun for granted and had even tried to revoke its light. But it was too strong and she needed light, she needed love, she needed Shizuru. And Natsuki swore to herself that never again would she allow that light, that shining radiance to be taken away from her!

-

How swift life was in taking and spoiling wondrous things! Life was against beauty just as the Nazis hated the Jews. Life persecutes the good! The good must always suffer so that the bad may prevail! Mother was an honest woman; she worked her hands to the bone so that she could feed her family. And what did she get in return? A double crossing husband. The world is populated by perverts, rapists, killers, thieves! But life doesn't give any of these bastards to death. No! He would never surrender any of these fuckers to the grim reaper! Instead, he had to give up a kitten, a poor helpless waif, while the drug lords shit gold and the rapists fuck innocent people that are too afraid to speak up for themselves. And oh! Oh the mind boggling irony of it all! And life's greatest joke! The greatest trick played upon the mortal kind is to give one a taste of its treasures and fineries and then take those precious things in a blink of an eye.

What a jest life and death must have had! They must've been barking mad with laughter! She sat underneath the tall Sakura tree in the university's garden and wept. She felt like a dying cat stranded on a pebbly raft. She once again cried her eyes out like a little girl standing over a murderous sea that refused to release her dead mother's soul.

She stared blankly at the broken window before her and saw that her eyes were not the same eyes that she opened when she woke up this morning. She saw that she bore dead suns, dead stars! Hopeless! Denied of light and life! Life took something from her again and this time, she knew, she concluded that it was over. _'Be it done to me as life dictates!' _If the sky decided to fall, be it so. If the sun decided to burn her, be it so. It was over. Shizuru was nowhere. Her sun was gone! And she wept no longer, for such a tempest it was the swelled within her broken heart that she could not find the strength to shed even a single tear for her cruel, cruel fate.

She surrendered. Such a terrible surrender it was! But suddenly, so suddenly, like the gentle breeze that passed her by like a speeding truck, her celphone vibrated.

-

5:12:05 pm. [][][]|

**Calling: Shizuru**

**...**

[ANSWER] [END CALL]

-

CLICK!

-

"H-hello?" she said in a little girl's voice.

"Natsuki are you alright? Where are you?" Shizuru asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired. I'm at the university."

"Ara! Thank kami. That's good to know." She could imagine Shizuru's smiling face. But she could not feel the slightest trace of joy within her heart.

"Where the devil are you?" She asked, a bit annoyed by the fact that she spent half of the day being miserable.

"I'm at the city hall! I and the other representatives of the board of regents had a meeting with the mayor", Shizuru explained calmly.

"Oh…" Natsuki said with a sigh.

"Natsuki what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll meet you there, okay? Give me twenty minutes."

"Actually, I want to watch the sunset with you." Natsuki paused and listened to the singing of the wind, "Is that okay with you, Natsuki?"

"Yes, of course. I'll meet you at the baywalk then."

"Ookini, my Natsuki." She pictured a smiling Shizuru over the phone and found solace in that image.

"M-hmm…" She nodded drowsily as she stood up from the ground.

-

Even the mountain shall crumble into dirt, just as suns and stars die out like fireflies, like kittens, like mothers. The world was never meant for beauty or the good. The wicked triumphed in it. She always told herself that she was being herself, that other people should fuck their own opinions. But here she was, struggling against life, living out as Natsuki Kuga, writing "single" and passing Shizuru by the halls, by the street without giving her a peck on the cheek, without saying "I love you". Silence is truly golden. A touch of it turns one into a petrified, shimmering statue, built only for the eyes of the world, the malicious world, the hedonistic world, the heterosexual world, the patriarchal world, the corrupted world and all its tyrannical, cruel cronies.

-

"You look troubled. What's bothering you?"

Thus roused, Natsuki looked at Shizuru.

"Sorry." She laughed weakly, "I was just thinking of the sunset. It's beautiful."

"Yes it is. It's very romantic, neh? And yet-" Shizuru paused and smiled imperceptibly at the sun that slowly sunk into the horizon.

"It's just dust."

Natsuki raised an eye brow and stammered: "J-just dust? What are you talking about?"

"You wouldn't see that sunset that way if it weren't for the dust." Shizuru explained with a serene expression on her face, "It's actually the other way around: not the sun illuminating the earth, but the earth illuminates the sun with dust."

"Physiography class." She added with a wink.

-

Just dust. Nice thought. She closed her eyes as a certain song played in her head: _'All we are is dust in the wind…_'. Papa used to play it on his guitar. Yes, papa. Papa and his music were no more than dust just like her, just like everyone else, just like dreams, just like love, just like life and all the dark cronies that festered within the earth's core. It'll all flutter away into nothingness – all that dust. Everything.

She glared at Shizuru._ Way to go, love. You just made me remember all the crap I'm trying to forget. _She had always been a good girl for mama and she took mama's last words seriously._ 'Hang on tight.' _And she did and she fought until the very end_. 'Let go' _and she did and no longer wept beside the sea. But okaa-san was no longer there to instruct her.

She softened her gaze and scrutinized her partner in the diminishing glow. She was as beautiful as the first day they met, and wisps of her brown hair danced prettily in the wind. She drew closer, reached out, and held her right hand in hers.

The sun was an empty, red bowl up in the heavens and the sea water turned mahogany like fermented soybeans as it took the sun into its waving entrails.

"We just ran out of Miso soup." She said in a weak tone. She looked at Shizuru's eyes; eyes that were redder and more radiant than the setting sun. Now here was beauty –

Oh no! beauty? her mind mocker her. This is just dust! All is dust. Damn science! Damn the world! Damn the ways of the living! Even love – bah! Just dust! what was so beautiful about dust anyway? It stings the eyes and makes one sneeze. No wonder life is so intent in wiping everyone off of the face of the earth! Why, what else is there do with dust? naturally one must remove it!

-

"Natsuki what's wrong?"

Her eyes watered and her lips trembled. Shizuru, yes, Shizuru is a sun. But all suns perish and even suns are dust. Shizuru is dust just like everyone and everything else. After a while there will be no more light to shed, no more love to give, no more Shizuru, no more of her golden dust. She will be nothing more but a name on a stone, a memory to weep over. And later on nothing more but dust to be devoured by maggots. Yes, Natsuki. Maggots will enter that beautiful face. Maggots will scrape her skin off of her bones with their tiny teeth. By then people would say: _"She was a great person." "She lived a good life."_ And people would pass Natsuki by and say: _"Condolence. What were you to Shizuru Fujino?"_ her answer should be automatic, quick, and unchanging: "Her bestfriend". No, no. You can't say the truth. Hush, hush. Silence is golden my dear. A mere slip of the tongue: "her lover" and oh! Oh! They shall all say: _"She's a dirty person." "Her soul is burning in hell!" _

She held Shizuru's hand tighter. _Speak now or forever fall to pieces._

Dust! The word haunted her. But-

"_It's actually the other way around: not the sun illuminating the earth, but the earth illuminates the sun with dust." _

Life would not be beautiful without dust. Yes! Yes! Dust made the sun, the earth beautiful! But dust flew quickly, so swiftly! Like roadrunner, like flashes of red light and constant changing of traffic lights. That's why life is always in a shortage of dust, dust which is the color of the afternoon sea, dust which is the color of fermented soybeans, dust which is powdered miso soup. What is dust isn't beautiful! Dust makes life perfect!

'_Just a drop of water in an endless sea' _True, true. But the sea wouldn't be the sea if it weren't for the drops that collided to make it. Science, religion, love – dust! A drop!

She kissed her suddenly, and even Shizuru was surprised at the element of urgency in the caress. People who passed them by scrutinized them with malicious eyes. But Natsuki did not care. They were just dust anyway. Something primal was revived in her, something more carnal than hunger or lust and more powerful than death and life. It was love. They may run out of Miso soup but never of love. _'Hang on tight.'_ Yes, she will. She did and she will.

"Darling," she whispered while she cradled her lover in her trembling arms and tears streamed from her eyes like crystal waterfalls, "Shizuru, I love you."

-

Never in her lifetime will Shizuru know how and why Natsuki had become so peculiarly afraid.

---

--

-

* * *

**A/N: **

**Water is used to signify life. This should explain why this is entitled "Mizu soup". I could write more but I know that many would tire reading this fic. So. Meh…will write the other thoughts on another installation. *winks at F.S Mercedi and inpassing* **


	7. Chapter 7: Longinus

-

**A/N: I wish I could be more poetic, but alas! Words fail me. A bit rushed (would you believe it? months of 0 updates and a rushed chapter?! You evil little wench!) Certain undesirable circumstances deprived of the time to write fanfics. Nevertheless, enjoy the latest installation of Life is Perfect. Salamat for reading. **

**Oh, and I AM NOT MATALIM PULALON! We are not one and the same  
**

**Pahiwatig**: Inaanyayahan ko lahat ng Pilipinong manunulat para sa fandom na ito na mag-isip at magsulat ng mga fanfic na mayroong mga ORIHINAL na kwento. Iwasan ho natin ang panghihiram mula sa mga libro, tele nobela, pelikula, at komiks na nakagisnan natin. Sariling gawa, sariling dila, sariling utak ang ating ibuhos sa ating mga likha. Nagiging sakit na ho ng ating lipunan ang "pagresiklo" ng mga dating obra. Hindi ito magandang pangitain sapagkat ipinapakita lamang nito na nauubusan na tayo ng mga ideya at nababawasan na ang ating pagiging malikhain. Paliparin natin ang ating diwa. Salamat ho.

* * *

**LONGINUS**

**-  
**

_To grief and melanchonly,_

_Rejoice!_

_I lie still in the darkness_

_While nymphs weep over my bloodied tunic_

_And spiders weave steel cobwebs before me._

_They form an endless maze_

_-  
_

_Romans! Hypocrites!_

_See now, sons of Golgotta! _

_The hero has fallen. No more, no more epic courage._

_No skin of bronze to spare, no golden blood to bleed, nothing left,_

_Save scars! _

_And the body is a huge scar; an open wound - gaping flesh!_

_The mouth nothing more but a hungry wound with bony, tattered entrails_

_Nailed on petrified cypress_

_-  
_

_Longinus feels pity_

_He dips a sponge in wine and brings it to my lips_

_Along with a blade that bled my blood._

_He says:_

_Savor the sweetness of grapes before thy senses dull!_

_And I reply, with the voice of weeping nymphs,_

_While the crowds jeer and tear my bloodied clothes, I cry and say_

_To the centurion with Jesus' eyes:_

"_Darling, _

_Why didn't you just dip it in goddamn coffee?"_

_-  
_

_

* * *

  
_

She exhaled audibly while the scent of isopropyl alcohol and cheap beer loitered in the melancholic, dusty air. Men walked around the platform of the train station as they languidly held unto their bags, as thick, heavy coats fell on their bodies like dirty drapes. She nuzzled her nose into her purple coat's collar. Her coat smelled vaguely sweet, like a drop of honey lost in a puddle of rain. It possessed an earthly fragrance, a sort of feminine musk; peculiarly and delicately aromatic, unlike the pungent and sometimes repelling smell of flowers or of a shrine of incenses. It was addictive like a drug.

She swore she tasted a sweet creaminess on her tongue – her neurons were acting weird that morning; they seemed to be able to convert scent into taste in just a split second. There was simply one way to call the smell: It was Natsuki. She wondered how and why the coat smelled of her lover. Perhaps Natsuki wore it – tried it on last night while she slept on the bed. She slightly shrugged her shoulders and sank into her coat's collar.

Thunder rumbled from the ground. She sat up straight while the old woman beside her coughed and the terracotta men yawned beneath the bludgeoning of the thick, dreary morning air. The sun begged for the horizon to spat it out and the clouds were sluggishly sprawled across the pale blue heavens. The thunder grew louder while the yawns turned to soft inconceivable murmurs. The railways shook and tinkered like giant xylophones, and after a series of ringing sounds, the train arrived in a flash of sterling silver.

She glanced at the twin, blue walls that stood proudly before her. The terracotta men and the sleepy, old woman crept lethargically towards the newly opened gates of the steely, mechanical viper before her. They sat on the cushioned intestines and leaned on the iron bones. With the lower part of her face tucked neatly into her coat's collar, Shizuru stepped unto the platform. She sighed heavily as she gave the station one last look and watched the light kiss the polished rails on the stairs and gave life to the blue adjacent walls of the electric cave before she finally stepped into the entrails of the speed-hungry machine.

The metal doors closed behind her with Transylvanian fog. The steel bars locked themselves behind her with a resounding hiss. Shizuru sat beside the drowsy old woman. The trains smelled of lager and newly opened air conditioning. Not a good smell. _'Unlike Natsuki,'_ She whispered into the velvety cloth as the sweet evanescent scent filtered through her nostrils, '_Natsuki smells so divine.' _

The train began to move. It hummed as it passed corridor after corridor.

"Excuse me, child," A weary voice cut through the stillness of the morning air and asked :"What time is it?"

Shizuru turned around to give the old woman a kind smile. She peeked at her wristwatch and concluded with closed eyes: "Its six twenty five, ma'am."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, ma'am." She replied with a slight bow.

"Osaka?"

"Kyoto, actually."

"That explains the accent.", The old woman yawned before she continued in a soft voice: "The air in Kyoto during this time of the year is warm, is it not?"

"Yes. Have you been to Kyoto?"

"Thrice." The old passenger said with a kind smile," Wondrous place."

"Indeed it is", She remarked with a smirk. She was becoming sarcastic. Perhaps it was a side effect from hanging around with someone who treated sarcasm as an art. _'Not a good sign' _

The train traveled closer to the faint light of the early morning sun. Feeling a sudden need for oxygen, Shizuru inhaled the fresh, morning air that smelled of newly opened air conditioning. The dreary morning air was thick with regretful sighs and mourns. She took in more of the oxygen while her eyes gazed at the languid forms that were seated before her. They exhaled audibly and allowed a million qualms and weary memories to flee from their dilated nostrils while Shizuru inhaled and took in all the feelings and thoughts that escaped from the strangers in front of her. She was being suffocated.

She stood up and walked towards the empty area of the train and sank her face into the collar of her coat. Mornings were supposed to be glorious, weren't they? Everything awoke from the state of sleep to rise and feel golden sunrays upon their own skins. She clutched her things tightly and thought about how dreary the birth of the sun truly is and how waking up seemed to be the greatest burden that every man was forced to carry upon the separation from the womb. The mind boggling irony of it all is that people preferred sleeping over waking.

'_My, my, you are turning into a bright, little pessimist.'_ She scolded herself as she inwardly shook her head and leaned against the cold, steel wall behind her. She looked at the other passengers who bore sour expressions on their faces. She could not smile. The atmosphere was bleak, the air was as still as the unmoving pupils of the passengers who were deep in thought.

Terracota men with sad faces. Terracota men who smelled of dried clay. Their hands were rough and calloused. She watched as one of them took a cigar from his pocket.

"Hey buddy, it's not like everyone here smokes. This is a public vehicle.", A terracotta man said in a harsh tone.

"Mind your own fucking business"

Shizuru winced as the scent of nicotine and burned paper filled her lungs. Outside, the morning air smelled of dead wood and morning breath. She wondered how the sun smelled like. Perhaps the sun smelled of sweat, or of dried wood, or of cigarettes. She took her handkerchief out and pressed it to her nose, thereby mixing the smell of nicotine with that of lavender.

-

This is how life begins;

Not with sight,

nor song,

but with scents.

* * *

-

Natsuki's sneakers squeaked noisily as she sprinted across the College of Art and Science's hall. She kept glancing at the aged wooden doors to her right whilst unconsciously crumpling the blue test booklet tucked underneath her right arm. When her awe-struck eyes met the sign 'RH 227', she screeched to a halt and frantically opened the door.

Matalim Pulalon sat on the rectangular, mahogany table, with a sour expression on her face. She stared at the dead tree outside open window. The air smelled of dried leaves and cigarettes. It was summer, and yet it felt like autumn. She held a tiny sheet of yellow paper in her right hand.

Natsuki hastily closed the door behind her and walked towards the center of the room. Matalim raised an eyebrow as Natsuki bowed lowly before her.

"Sorry I'm late! I-" Natsuki slowly raised her head and looked around to beheld empty seats, empty rows of chairs, a clean blackboard, and angry eagle eyes.

"I got stuck…" Her voice trailed off like the faint sound of the flapping of dove's wings above the roof, "…in the traffic jam at the main road."

Matalim Pulalon neatly folded the tiny piece of paper in her hands and then carefully tucked it inside her sarong. She stood up and walked away from the table, while the long, red sleeves of her dress rolled down to cover her exposed wrists like calm waves moving towards the sand. The silver star and moon patterns on her flowing red silk glittered in the darkness of the room. Natsuki took note of the intricate designs that covered the sleeves and the neckline.

"Sensei?", Natsuki asked shyly. She was a few inches shorter than Natsuki, but kami! She seemed so powerful, so mighty, and so huge then! She seemed other-worldly like an epic war-lord revived from some ancient text. She wore no smirk, no grin, nor goofy nor cheery smile on her lips. She was frowning, as if displeased over some grave matter or bored to the point of ennui (Natsuki read that war gods are usually bored with the mortal world).

There wasn't a single drop of humor in her veins. There was but fire – an infernal torrent of flare that burned within her eyes. It wasn't the usual fire – the spirited kind – that resided within her eagle eyes. It was different, it was a thing to behold, it was captivating, striking, but above all it was frightening, it was horrifying, it sent shivers running through Natsuki's spine, it kept her feet glued on the ground! It made her feel weak and pitiful. The eagle eyes and the solar eclipses within them scrutinized her with such spite – Oh such spite! She felt as if they would burn holes into her soul.

-

"You're dismissed." The tone was threatening. She bowed her head in shame and spoke out: "I'm really sorry, sensei."

"Sorry for what?" Perplexed, she looked up at Matalim who stared at her with pugnacious eyes.

"For being late."

"We don't have any classes today."

She did not have a proper reply. She stepped aside and Matalim Pulalon strode gallantly away from Natsuki. Her walk was also different; it wasn't the loony swaggering that she was noted for. She walked in a proper posture without the sways and skips, exited the room without whistle or hum, and Natsuki sat down on an empty chair, confused, and with crumpled blue book in hand. The disquieting silence of the room echoed in her ears. She stood up, walked towards the teacher's table, and stood still beside the black board while robins mutely sang hymns of beauty to the dead tree outside the window.

-

-

Matalim walked towards the gardens where the bright colored flowers were bathed in golden hue. She moved across the grass while her shadow trailed along like washed ink. A small crowd had gathered on the center of the garden. She sighed heavily and wiped the perspiration on her forehead with the back of her left hand.

"It's already stiff." A faceless voice said.

"Were you able to contact his parents?" another one asked.

"Not yet, sir."

-

Matalim glanced at the hordes of camera men and news reporters outside the university's gates. The blinding flashes of their cameras were ephemeral suns.

"_We are standing here, outside the university gates, where 3__rd__ year Development Studies major, Ken Akihito, allegedly committed suicide." _

"_Akihito-san has been suffering from depression..."_

"_The university bids farewell to another bright mind. Akihito, Ken, jumped to his death at exactly 6:30 am…"_

"_This is Tachibana Gayru, reporting for Channel 7 news."_

She made her way through the crowd and approached the center of attention.

-

Christ was there – on the floor, Bleeding and broken.

The crown of thorns was still on his head; clustered fractures of his cranium with globs of his brain for roses. Flies squirmed around the body like martyrs partaking in the master's flesh. Matalim clenched her fist and kneeled beside the body, like Mary weeping beside her son. His hands were outstretched like the crucified Christ's, like petrified cypress' branches. The pavement was a collage of uprooted grass, flesh, and blood. Greenish fluid seeped out of his crushed entrails. Coagulated bits of his guts and blood were spattered all over the area like pigments of red dye. His spine was ruptured and split into two curved wreckages which protruded from his back like bloody, pink, fleshy butterfly wings.

"H-hey! Somebody, please!" The girl behind Matalim fainted. The spectators of the crucifixion fanned her with their blue books.

-

Matalim looked on. _Carnal finality_.

She closed her eyes. _Angel fell from grace_.

She bit her lower lip until it bled. There was soft pat on her shoulder.

"Professor, we're going to take this one now, alright?" The medical examiner said in a kind tone. She nodded and patted the lifeless, bloodied left hand of the Nazarene.

They gently lifted the cadaver; one man held his faceless head, the other supported his gelatinous waist. The exposed cartilage of his chest, perhaps due to the impact of the fall, was stuck on the ground, so when the two men lifted him up, they consequently tore his chest apart. He seemed to be a fleshy piece of rag soaked in blood and gore.

The paramedics placed Ken on a stretcher and carried it towards the ambulance. The crowd followed on. Matalim took notice of their disgusted faces. She heard their whispers, their grunts, their puking sounds. The air around Matalim smelled of sweat. She could taste the saltiness of the air with her tongue. She could smell rusty scent of blood on the pavements. She could taste the chalky dust on his intestines; she could taste the coppery sweetness of his blood on her tongue. Her vision narrowed. She cursed her inexplicably excellent sense of smell. They gathered around the parking lot while the paramedics shoved the carcass into the ambulance.

The news teams outside became restless. A plump nurse stood before the crowd. She waved her hands up in the air and shouted: "Show's over!"

"Ahoy, squire." Matalim huskily whispered as she patted the blackened soles of his left foot. The crowds slowly dispersed as the paramedics shooed them away from the bloodied site. She took out the note from her sarong and gently unfolded it. She reread the words scribbled on the paper:

_Thank you, professor, for enlightening me._

_Ken-chan,_

_You're squire_

_-  
_

She replied, with sad eyes and sad smile: "You're most welcome."

The ambulance's door closed.

* * *

-

The train's doors opened.

Shizuru stepped out of the fog and into the white light of the train station. Her heels clicked against the clean, tiled floor. The station was a factory of men and women in monochrome business suits. She was a purple flower lost in a field of dead roses. She yawned softly before she carefully climbed up the stairs.

Shizuru emerged from the white cave of metal vipers into the city of lights. She paused abruptly and gazed at the horizon. She made her way through the streets, passing tower after tower of gold and ivory. The asphalt roads were tinged with a bright bronze. The city was alive but the air was dead

She took a left turn from a pavilion and was greeted by grim faces in long, dark coats that seemed to be capes. The gelled hairs of most of the passersby reflected the yellow beams of the sun; forming golden crescents. _'Halos?'_, she asked herself when she took notice of the large orbs that covered their heads. When they passed her by, streaks of reddish light would form on the tip of their heads and the golden glimmer on their foreheads would curve and touch the tip of their noses._ 'Helmets._' She concluded with a smile.

She stopped beside a traffic light. The cars zoomed before her in bright flashes of neon light. She looked above her and saw the beaming green light of the traffic light turn yellowish due to the morning hue. She clutched her file case tightly as black caped crusaders gathered around her. Her thoughts returned to Natsuki, sweet, sweet, Natsuki. She closed her eyes and smiled. She could smell her, as if she were just nearby. There was that subtle, sweet fragrance in the dusty air. It was like incense in open space.

-

"Ojou-sama…ojou-sama…" Suddenly there was something heavy on her shoulder

She gasped, opened her eyes, and turned around to look into the deep, chestnut brown eyes of an old man. She flinched and he withdrew his hand from her shoulder.

"Goodness, you gave me quite a fright." Shizuru replied with a pout. She examined his appearance under the weak sunlight. His shirt was dusty with neglect, his hair was uncombed, his feet were bare and dirty, his hands were colder than death. He bowed apologetically and extended his arms to ask for alms. He opened his chapped lips. The air around her began to smell of rust and ash.

"I thirst." He said in a hushed voice.

"I'm-"

Red light. The cars came to a halt_. 'It's funny'_, She said to herself, _'how humans perceive the color red to be the color of danger, but at the same time the color of love.'_ She looked at the soiled hand in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any change to spare.", she said in a remorseful tone. He gave her a miserable look. She crossed the street without looking back.

-

She walked on without glancing at the sky, without stopping to smell or admire the Roses and Spider Lilies in the flower shop. Crowds came and went before her. The sun shined on in vain. She took a few more turns, crossed a few more streets, and finally arrived at her destination.

She stopped and scrutinized the area. The building was a golden Babel; there was a multitude of faces and foreign tongues around her. The first ten floors were an elegant, almost Grecian architecture similar to the Parthenon in style but the remaining floors spiraled towards the tip. The emblem of the building was a red cross. She smiled at the peculiar design and made her way through the crowd of strangers.

Shizuru entered the revolving glass doors of the building. The security device behind her blinked green. The chandeliers above her twinkled like morning stars. She smiled contentedly as she found a vacant seat beside a huge onyx statue of the Indian deity Ganesh. She sat down and marveled at the intricately designed marble floor of the building. The place shone of gold. It was as if it received the Midas' touch.

-

The banker was speaking with a tall Caucasian man. She rummaged through her file case for the needed papers. There was a huge flat screen T.V on the far right end of the room. She closed her file case and proceeded to amuse herself with whatever the T.V was showing.

It was a cooking show. She watched the greenish oil bubble around the pita bread in front of the pan. The screen turned blue and white text appeared on the center of the screen: "Next: Beef Kofta". _'Greek meat balls'_ , she said to herself.

The screen turned red and then there was a burst of yellow light. The words 'Flash report' swiveled on the center of the screen before settling on the bottom left corner of the monitor. A female reporter appeared along with the latest update on the stock market. Shizuru yawned; thus dulling her senses for a few seconds: She squinted and the only sound that she heard was the air in her ears. When she opened her eyes, a male reporter stood beside the bronze oblation of the university. An I.D photo of a male student appeared on the left side of the screen. She recognized the features – the small, round eyes, the petite nose, the thick upper lip, the long face, the hair which was neatly parted.

"…_versity's grounds run red with Development Studies Major, Ken Akihito's blood. Mr. Akihito jumped from the rooftop of the university's GAB building at exactly 6:30 am...."_

Her eyes widened in shock. She clasped her knees tightly. The air began to smell of lime flavored air freshener.

-

"Ken-chan?" She called out softly. Her mouth hung open in disbelief.

"_Mr. Akihito has been suffering from depression and social apathy for the past few months."_

"No…" She shook her head. She caught the attention of some of the banks' clients. They looked at her and then at the TV screen, at her then at the TV screen, at her…

"…_A form of altruistic suicide and…"_

"Be careful, Mr. Walters" The stout banker said as he shook the client's hand. Mr. Walters left with a jolly smile and the banker shuffled some signed papers into the huge rust colored cabinet behind him. He then sat down on his rotating chair and whisked the folders on his huge desk into his bureau drawer.

"_His life was worthless and eliminating himself was the only way to be of some use to the world. Mr. Akihito clearly stated these reasons in a letter that-"_

"Next!", The banker called out as he rang the small bell in front of him. Its chimes echoed pleasantly through the golden halls of the tower.

Shizuru stood up from her seat with eyes still fixated on the television screen.

-

* * *

-

Matalim sat down on the stool with a scowl.

She folded and unfolded the yellow post it note in her right hand. She massaged her forehead with her left hand and stared at the faculty room's door. The room smelled of lemons –the air freshener that Ken bought three weeks ago when the teachers complained about the nauseating smell of the aged air conditioners.

-

She used to hate that smell. But now she fucking loved it.

The silhouette outside began to tape a thin, clean shit of onion skin paper on the door's glass.

She could read the inverted letters on the door's glass:

-**  
**

**WANTED: Student Assistant.**

**Preferably: 2nd year/higher level**

**Speaks fairly decent English**

**Knowledgeable in Wordsheet and Excel programs**

-

The door creaked open and the co teacher entered the room with trembling steps. When he noticed that Matalim was looking at the door, he smiled comically and said:

"Guess I should've added: preferably not suicidal. He-he-he…" He laughed awkwardly and fell silent when Matalim's glowered at him.

"Bad joke," She remarked with a sigh, "Excellent way to get yourself killed."

"Sorry, I was just trying to cheer you up." He walked towards his cubicle, which was at the far right end of the room. He adjusted the collar of his denim jacket. Matalim's gaze fell on the small sheet of paper again.

"And," The co teacher continued as he played with his goatee, "We really need a new student assistant."

"I don't want a new student assistant, I want Ken." Matalim replied with gritted teeth.

He grabbed three books from his desk. He then took out a small, circular mirror from his cabinet and pretended to comb his ruffled hair with his hands. He kept glancing at Matalim Pulalon. There was no trace of melancholy on her face. There was only anger. His brows creased in distress. He wanted to say something, but he knew that Matalim preferred to be left alone. He gathered his things and walked towards Matalim's cubicle.

"I have classes.", He said with a sad smile. Matalim nodded in reply. She did not look at him. Her eagle eyes were still focused on the yellow paper. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She turned around to look at him. Oh, such angry, angry eagle eyes. He gulped his fear down and continued in a shaky voice, "It's not your fault."

-

Matalim shrugged and he left her alone to bask in the silence of the room. His footsteps echoed through the somber halls outside. She stood up, fixed her red sarong, and then approached the empty front desk. She stared at the cardboard beside the table.

PRESENT STUDENT ASSISTANTS:

[ ] Yumi Yomagata

[ ] Evan Yamamoto

[ ] Shinji Kurosawa

[x] Ken Akihito.

His ID was plastered right next to his name. She took it and smiled at Ken's forever smiling face. She placed the ID back on the cardboard and examined the front desk. Ken's things were still there – his books, his papers, his notebooks, his favorite coffee-flavored pen. She moved closer to the desk. Outside, she could hear the prayer vigil for him. She picked up his papers and read them one by one.

'_Regression Analysis…regression analysis…Population Management…Malthus…Keynesian Economics…more Regre-fucking-ssion analysis...Fiscal Policies…Tax on Text. ' _She paused and grimaced when she read the scribbles that Ken wrote in his scratch papers.

"Birth. It is during that event, when one borders on life and death, that the baby; fresh from the sweet primordial soup, from the liquefied dew of a woman, from Eden's juices, is first abandoned. It is during that peak of morphing from a tiny deformity that the pitiful human being is given a first taste of the pitiful thing called life. The infant, now prone to corruption, is taken by goggled satans from fleshy, damaged, warm, angel wings into some white hell and out, out into the disgusting hedonistic society that was created by the monstrosity called man."

-

That seemed strangely familiar to her. She read on.

-

"I believe that in order to assure ourselves of safety from these heinous beasts, we should keep them close to ourselves and not send them away. A commonly mentioned maxim goes: "Keep you friends close, but keep your enemies closer." And is it not only right of to keep our demons close instead of driving them away from our inner selves? The eternal battle lies not in Pakistan, nor does it reside in Heaven or Hell, it lives within man. It is consume or be consumed."

-

Her head began to hurt again.

-

"The demon is man corrupted. The demon appears when man's spirit is consumed by his flesh."

"Life is irony at its best."

"The god appears when the spirit is freed from the flesh."

"Gorge to disgorge. Inhale to exhale. It is quite pointless, if you think about it."

There was more. More of her. More of her—

"Shit." She cursed herself. She reached for his notebook with her left hand. He always carried it around with him and they usually saw him busily writing things in that little, yellow notebook. She flipped its pages open. She gnashed her teeth in frustration. There was more of her, more of her—

"Shit." She cursed herself and rapidly flipped the pages of the notebook until she reached the last page whereupon her own words were written in bold, black ink, encircled with brown, coffee scented ink and surrounded with Ken's own philosophies:

"**ALL LIFE IS DESTINED FOR DEATH."**

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! She pounded the desk with her fists. A roar escaped her throat. She looked around with bloodshot eyes and tore the notebook into tiny pieces. Her fingers received multiple paper cuts. She did not mind. She deserved it, she deserved more. Her fingernails broke. Her golden brown skin turned into a furious shade of read.

She frantically threw what was left of the notebook into the nearby trashcan. She battered the table with her bleeding, broken fists. Tiny bits of chipped black wood flew around her. The eagle eyes were fierce in their gaze. She stopped and looked at the ID plastered on the cardboard nearby. He was smiling at her. She could not smile. She felt ashamed of herself. She withdrew from his still gaze and went back to her cubicle.

But she could not help it. There was no peace within her – there was but rage! Aye! A terrible rage! And her Eagle eyes would not water, they could not cry, they could only hold a firm, angry gaze. Her blood was molten metal, her heart, an erupting volcano. She growled like a bewildered beast and brutally clobbered the table with her fists.

"That's not what I meant!", She cried out in vain, in a voice that would put the thunder of the heavens to shame.

"That's not what I meant!", her voice cackled in defeat.

She frantically stood up and turned around to face the empty front desk. But lo! Lo and behold! It was no longer empty! For Ken Akihito was there, looking at her with much amusement, flashing his cheery smile at her from afar, writing his musings on his yellow notebook with his coffee-flavored pen.

Matalim's eagle eyes softened. Her deep brows creased. "K-Ken! Squire, I'm sorry!", She called out in a raspy voice.

Ken closed his eyes and his smile grew wider.

"I didn't mean it that way. Look, Ken. All life is destined for death. But death isn't the purpose of living! It's a huge question mark! It's irony at its best, yes. Life is a smartass, b-but squire, you can outsmart it! One's destiny is different from one's purpose…" She bit her lower lip and it bled again.

Ken waved at her and she found the strength to smile at him. "The purpose of life isn't death, the purpose of living is to li-" But suddenly, oh! So suddenly! Ken's eyes bulged, his nose bled, he began to cough out blood. Matalim ran towards the front desk. She extended her arms to reach him. The blood that painfully squirted out of her hands formed ephemeral red butterflies in the lemon smelling air.

-

Ken spread his arms like the crucified Christ.

He and Matalim were merely a breath apart.

"Akihito!!!", she said the name aloud like a battle cry.

"Thank you, professor, for enlightening me.", and with those final words, Ken's face burst open, his ribs split apart, his body twisted, his cranium exploded, and his brains flew sky high. Gut and blood hit the floor in equal amounts.

-

Christ was there – on that seat, Bleeding and broken.

Matalim stood silently. Her right eye twitched involuntarily. Her hands shook like leaves fighting against a storm. The floors of the DSS faculty room was clean, the front desk was empty, and she was alone, all alone.

-

"Take your beloved servant, Akihito Ken, into your kingdom…" the vigils went on.

"Ken?" She called out.

"Amen." A hundred voices answered back.

She looked around the room. Ken was nowhere to be found. The ghastly apparition had vanished from her view.

-

-

Drip.

……Drip.

…………Drip.

There was something cold and wet on her feet. She looked down and saw that her red sarong was dripping blood. She spread her arms like an eagle in flight and watched the blood flow out of her long sleeves and splatter on the ground. It was Ken's blood – not hers. The room radiated a hellish scarlet. The blood pooled around her and reached her knees. Tiny bits of Ken's brain and guts surfaced in the cold, crimson lake.

Outside, the vigil went on, completely unaware of the horrors within the DSS faculty room.

* * *

"Miss Fujino?"

"Yes?"

-

The banker cleared his throat. She could tell by the grim tone of his voice and by the sad look on his face that it was bad news. She began to feel nauseas. He adjusted his blue bowtie. His discomfort was written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, I cannot transfer the savings from your previous account." He said as he placed the certificates on his table aside and placed the papers Shizuru gave him inside a beige folder.

"I am already of legal age. My mother signed this authorization letter." Shizuru explained in a calm but commanding tone. He sat up straight and moved closer to the table.

"Quite right," He said with a cough, "But-"

"My guardian in question called this bank to acknowledge the closure of my account."

"Yes, we've received-", He staggered for a cogent reply and squirmed in his seat.

"It's a valid termination." Shizuru stated with assurance.

-

The banker fidgeted in his seat. His face contorted in humiliation. Shizuru was calm and collected, yet her eyes were angry suns with blazing rays of light that penetrated his being and scorched his soul like hell fire. He paused and looked for further interventions from the cold goddess before him. He glanced at the files on his table. He took that moment to breathe and regain his confidence. When the banker was assured that Shizuru had nothing to add, he opened his mouth and-

"According to your policies, I can transfer my savings into my new account when the previous account is terminated.", Shizuru countered him with a mirthless smile.

"The problem, Miss Fujino, is that your account is still undergoing termination.", He managed to say out in a distressed tone.

"But it has already been confirmed to be non existent!" She said; her frustration was apparent in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Miss Fujino, but your junior savers account is still being liquefied. It shall be completely removed from our list after two days-

"Two days?" She unconsciously squeezed her file case in her frustration.

"Yes, your mother terminated it last Monday, Miss Fujino. You see, in our Kyoto branch…" She watched the darkened patches on his vaguely wrinkled skin change shape as he explained this and that to her. She did not bother listening. She knew her reasoning would not prevail.

"But I need it for my enrollment tomorrow…" She said in a voice that was merely a whisper.

"I beg your pardon, madam?" The banker asked with a worried look on his face.

-

There was a clicking of heels behind her. The banker hurriedly organized his desk. Shizuru stared at the unfeeling marble floors. A shadow fell over her. She did not mind though. She was too busy thinking about her enrollment fees. Where would she get her tuition fees? She closed her eyes in a feeble attempt to fight her thoughts away.

"What seems to be the problem here?" A female voice from behind her asked in a harsh tone. The banker quickly stood up from his seat, bowed, and then approached the figure behind her. In her mind's eye, Shizuru picture herself running towards Natsuki's arms. Yes, Natsuki's strong arms. They kissed – she could taste Natsuki's wine tasting lips. She cried and Natsuki lulled her to bed and kissed her to sleep.

"Madam, the customer's…" The banker explained in a hushed voice. She did not care to look at them. Tears began to form at the back of her eyes. She closed her eyes; her long eyes lashes made her eyes look like venus fly traps. Natsuki kissed them and drew the salty badges of sorrow away with her pliant fingers. _'Don't cry'_, she whispered into her ear with an embrace.

-

"Do it!" The unseen speaker exclaimed. She opened her eyes and stared at the high ceiling above her.

"But, Madam! It is against the-"

"Transfer the funds. There won't be a trace left of the account in two days time and the guardian validated the closure." The voice responded sardonically.

The air smelled of lemons.

Before she could even look at the stranger, the banker strutted back to his desk. He adjusted his glasses and smiled at her.

"Forgive me for the inconvenience, Miss Fujino. I shall now transfer your previous savings into your new account. Please just give me a few minutes."

She placed her hand on her chest and sighed in relief. The walls twinkled in applause. The banker began to type digits into the computer behind him.

-

"Long time no see, bubuzuke ona."

Shizuru turned around in her seat to look at the speaker. It was Haruka Suzushiro. Her hair was now longer, her jaw bone well pronounced, her stance prouder, her eyes were purple jewels strewn on white silk. She wore a pin striped, olive green business suit. Shizuru chuckled at the suit's resemblance to Haruka's former green high school uniform. Shizuru stood up and bowed before her former classmate. Haruka slightly bowed back and gestured at the alarmed banker to continue his work.

"Ara, Suzushiro-san! This is a truly a pleasant surprise. I suppose I have you to thank for the account transfer."

Haruka smirked smugly and stood up straight with akimbo. Her lips were tinged with a peculiar bronze hue and her hair was golden moonlight on a restless sea. Shizuru tilted her head to the left in wonder. Haruka laughed impishly; her high pitched voice made the janitor behind them snicker. She scoffed at him and he immediately left the scene.

-

Monochrome people poured into the golden building.

"The transfer is done. Do you want to make a withdrawal?" The banker interrupt

"Yes, please."

"Very well, please enter the amount here, the password here, and sign here and here."

Shizuru sat down and took her black sign pen out of her coat's pocket. She looked at the sheets of paper before her and recognized her mother's hand writing. She wrote her name beside her mother's. She took note of their similar hand writing; slightly curved, elegantly arched tips, fine, bold lines, the letters were written in perfectly straight lines, symmetrical and uniform in size, distinguishable.

-

'_Shizuru, don't slouch when you write.' _

'_Shizuru, slant your hand at this angle.'_

The film strip of her memory rolled; she sat on the tatami mat with a brush in her hand. Her right cheek was smeared with dark ink that looked like wisps of black hair. Okaa-san stood before her in a rust colored yukata. She looked at mother with teary eyes. Okaa-san aged gracefully. Her hair was paled chestnut brown with a few silver tresses. Her eyes were redder than the flickering flame of the lamp before her. "Again." Mother said in a harsher tone. She dipped the brush in her tiny hand into the cup of black ink and slowly wrote the syllable 'ki' on the sheet of paper before her.

"Wrong." Shizuru crumpled the paper and tossed it into the pile of papers that bled black ink.

"Again." Mother was an expert calligraphist. She had to be one too.

-

She snapped out of her reverie and handed the papers back to the banker with a smile.

"Are you free today?" Haruka asked in a cheery tone.

"Yes." She agreed.

-

* * *

Natsuki sat on the floor at the center of the room with a brush in her hand. She found Shizuru's old calligraphy set in the aged cabinet where Shizuru kept her kimonos. She dipped the brush into the plastic small tea cup that she filled with thick blank Indian ink.

'_Today in The World's Unsolved Mysteries: the shroud of Turin!' _

She looked at the television screen and chortled at the low-budget T.V show. She lifted the brush and watched the ink drip on her note book like strands of her hair.

Natsuki let the brush fall free from her hand. Tiny globs of paint dance around the falling brush.

* * *

Matalim Pulalon stood before a mirror. Her face was silhouetted. Her room is a void of darkness. There is a small television behind her. She watched from the reflection in the mirror. The letters were inverted, the words almost unreadable, the directions twisted. A male reporter's face flashed on the screen. Ken's death is dramatized and re enacted by CGI characters. She walked closer to the mirror and her eagle eyes peered through the dark shadows on her face.

Ken spread his arms like an eagle in flight and jumped – head on.

* * *

SPLOCK! The firm fiber of Shizuru's brush was spread out on the paper. Black ink was spattered all over it like a crown of thorns. It formed a galaxy of black dwarves on the white universe of Natsuki's notebook.

Natsuki picked up the brush and swabbed the puddle of black ink all over her notebook.

* * *

The university is seen on the T.V's screen. Matalim watched on. A Janitor mops Ken's blood on the university's grounds. The asphalt was painted red with his blood.

The fading blue of the heavens darkened and grey clouds draped over the city; blocking the sunlight and turning the day into a drearier, gloomier morning.

* * *

-

"Oh my, it's going to rain cats and mice." Haruka ruminated as she placed her steaming cup of brewed coffee on the circular table.

"Permit me to correct you, Haruka-san…" Shizuru said with a slight bow. Haruka nodded in conformity.

"It's cats and dogs, not cats and mice."

Haruka almost spat her coffee out. Shizuru looked around. The quaint café's walls were painted blue-violet with silhouetted of fish and eye balls. She smiled at the colour. Blue-violet. That's like Natsuki and her combined. The floor was a chessboard. The room was dimly lit by gas lamps and the customers were few. Perfect for a chit-chat.

She ate her last spoonful of smoked Norwegian salmon and placed the empty plate aside whilst wiping tid bits of garlic bread and sour cream off of her mouth with her handkerchief. Talking with Haruka was like a walk down memory lane. They spent the past few hours of their meeting sharing pleasantries and reminiscing on the notable instances of their high school lives: gym class accidents, their favorite late comers – "especially that delinquent Kuga!", Haruka laughed aloud – underwear thief incidents, the good, the bad, and the plain sad and ugly classmates. When they settled in the café and waited for their orders, they made jests out of evil college professors and coworkers, things that they did while the other was away, things that occurred while they lived their own lives separately.

"It's been six years, Fujino."

"Hai, Suzushiro-san. You're already a successful business woman." Haruka stiffened in her seat with chin up and chest out like a marching soldier. She was still as proud and as competitive as ever.

"How is Kikukawa-san?" Shizuru asked as she sipped her Jasmine tea quietly.

"She's taking up her Masters at Waseda University."

Shizuru raised an eyebrow at her friend. Haruka's hand waggled; the equivalent of a scoff.

"We're…we're still good friends." Haruka replied with a slight blush. Shizuru placed the half empty ceramic down and hissed in ridicule. There was a pause. Small drops of rain pitter-pattered on the window's glass in a slow rhythm.

-

"Do you intend to pursue a doctorate, Suzushiro-san?" Shizuru asked while a streak of pinkish light ran across the heavens like an arrow of light.

"Perhaps in the future. As of now, I'm quite contented with my job."

"I can tell."

-

The heavens roared in metallic pink hue.

"This tea is excellent." Shizuru said as she licked her lips in an attempt to taste the last remnants of the jade substance she just drank. There were tiny bits of dark tea leaves on her dry cup. She hesitantly took them out with her teaspoon.

"I heard you graduated with honors." Haruka said curtly. Shizuru gently chewed the tiny bits of tea leaves in her mouth. She savored the bitter sweetness of each crushed leaf. "Magna cum laude, Bachelor of Arts in Political Science. Very Impressive. Very Fujino.", Haruka continued candidly.

"You're pretty updated." Shizuru commented with a toothy smile. She was flattered by the compliment.

"…Japan's number one public university. Best law school in the country since 1908. Brilliant." Haruka went on as if she were talking to herself. She tinkered with the small, tea spoon n her empty cup of coffee. Shizuru hummed blissfully. Haruka's eyes fell on the empty packets of brown sugar on the table.

"Working?", Haruka asked as she crumpled the small papers into tiny balls with her fingers.

"Hai. Same university."

-

The heavens were split into three for a brief moment by white, pink, and blue strips of hot light. Haruka eyed Shizuru with much chagrin and Shizuru could only blink in wonder at the sudden change of mood.

"It is common knowledge that government schools pay low wages.", Haruka's said in a cold tone.

"I cannot deny that fact.", Shizuru replied with a smile. _That's right. Everything must be given back with a smile – even casual replies. Even vengeance._ She closed her eyes and chased her thoughts away.

"You're wasting your brains and your talent in that university! What has become of your Harvard scholarship?", Haruka spat out aloud. Shizuru's eyes darted across the room. Some of the customers were looking at them. Damn Haruka for her emotional outburst – bad habit that she can't seem to break.

"Come now, how do you know about that?"

"You said it yourself, I'm pretty updated."

Shizuru paused and exhaled slowly and quietly.

"I declined." She said quickly and with closed eyes. She heard Haruka slap the table. She could also hear whispers from the other tables: _'Good lord, is she giving that other woman a lecture?' 'Scandalous.'_

"Why didn't you accept?", Haruka asked with gritted teeth. Haruka was being like Okaa-san. Shizuru tittered and placed her hands on her lap.

"I can never leave this country, Haruka-san. My loyalty will forever be with the scholars of this nation.", She explained calmly.

"Fujino, you hippie,", Haruka said in a voice thick with treath, "you could've taken up law at Harvard and taught there!"

"Many veteran professors at the university resigned to pursue 'better opportunities' or teach in other schools that give better pay offs. Who will be left to teach the students?"

"Shizuru, the mind is a terrible thing to waste.", Haruka tried to reason. But Shizuru shook her head and kindly smiled at her. Screw that smile. The hippie's perfection was driving her into insanity.

"Which is why instead of wasting my mind and the minds off a few worthy scholars who don't have enough yen to study in Waseda or even buy a one way ticket to the United States, I decided to teach – and I will continue to teach in the university where the poor man's son can learn."

Haruka fell silent.

"So while those old professors are teaching at Harvard, or at Waseda, or at some other private university, whose gates will never be opened for the minimum wage worker's child, I will teach at the university.", Shizuru continued. Her smile never left her face.

"Teaching there is nothing more but a noble profession.", Haruka said glumly.

"I agree! There is nothing nobler than voluntary poverty!" Shizuru replied spiritedly.

"Fujino –" Her words were consummated by her own thoughts. Her face contorted in frustration and her voice was reduced to a whimper, "Harvard."

"On top of that, if I DID accept that Harvard scholarship, where would I stay? I don't know anyone in America. It's very impractical."

-

Shizuru looked at the glass windows. The heavens were crying cold, bitter tears. _'Plus, I can't leave my Natsuki alone…not now. Especially now.', _She thought as a matrix of fragile crystals formed on the window. She thoughts about it – about Harvard. She was ecstatic over the phone and Natsuki took her out to the movies to celebrate her acceptance. _'That was four years ago'_. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Four years ago when waking up wasn't a burden, when life seemed to be filled with promises, when tomorrow always seemed better, when the sky was still bright and Natsuki was still free to ride bikes whenever she pleased, and money came quickly like green flashes of lightning. When okaa-san wasn't a mere phantasm yet – when she okaa-san still provided for her somehow.

-

"You know what," Haruka interrupted her thoughts. "When Yukino told me that you received a scholarship offer from Harvard, I was enraged. I told myself: that darn bubuzuke woman got ahead of me again."

"You always excelled without even trying." Haruka laughed coolly. Haruka has always been a convenient distraction. She suddenly remembered her first kiss. Natsuki was sleeping but she was wide awake. Kami! She could feel sparks flying all around her. Lightning zapped her veins. Natsuki's lips were soft – God! Oh god! She thought she would go mad. She smiled –not at Haruka –but at the image of a Natsuki in her blue kimono.

-

The heavens roared madly.

"I used to picture you in front of Americans. Earning dollars – not a teensy weensy bit of yen."

VROOM! Pink light. "Victorious."

VROOM! Blue light "Rich."

CRASH! White light "Ahead of me."

-

Shizuru did not have a reply. She felt embarrassed. She wondered why.

The café smelled of ash and dead roses. Haruka unrolled her sleeves. Shizuru perceived the pinstriped suit to be a heaven filled with lightning strikes. And then it came to her in a flash of yellow light, in a loud cry of thunder that resonated throughout the whole island. Haruka was admitting her defeat and recognizing her accomplishments.

"What about Kuga-san?", Haruka asked in a shyly.

"Natsuki is taking up her BS in Biochemistry at my university."

"Never saw that one coming."

Shizuru cocked an eyebrow at her snickering friend.

"My Natsuki's problem lies in her terrible time management. Take that away and you'll find a brilliant scientist.", she remarked with a pout.

"She also works part-time?"

"Yes, she's a waitress at a fast food restaurant."

"Lindenbaum?"

"Heavens! No!" , Shizuru laughed.

"Where?"

-

It rained harder; the rain charged against the moist ground and left no patch of ground dry. Monochrome umbrellas sprung out from the streets and blossomed like grayscale flowers. The asphalts were obsidian with wetness. The city's golden glimmer was vaguely ebbed.

"Fujino, how is your family in Kyoto?"

"Mother is doing alright."

"I checked your records before we left. You no longer have access to your family's account and you haven't received any cash transfer from Kyoto since November 25 of…well, four years ago." Haruka smiled apologetically. Everything suddenly grew silent around Shizuru. She suddenly felt numb.

"Your mother isn't providing for you anymore. What happened?"

Good riddance. And she tried her best to avoid that topic.

-

"Well,", Shizuru cleared her throat. She clenched her fists in repugnance and spoke steadily in a voice that was free from sorrow and hate, in a voice that rivaled the coolness of the breeze outside where the heavens wept icy, falling stars.

"Five years ago, mother discovered about me and Natsuki. She warned me that she would disown me if I did not break up with Natsuki. I – well, I couldn't care less. Natsuki meant everything to me – frankly, she still does. I did not heed her warning. One day, I woke up and I was motherless. Legally motherless."

'_It's hard, Suzushiro-san, to know that someone is there – alive, breathing, capable of helping- but unwilling to support you. It's hard to stomach the fact that they are there. They simply refuse to help.', _she wanted to add but she couldn't. Melodrama was never her thing. But Suzushiro looked at her with sad, sympathetic eyes. And she knew, yes, Shizuru knew that Suzushiro understood.

-

She felt neglected again. She sat still with eyes fixed on the hazy window beside her. Outside, the terracotta men indolently marched against the battering rain drops.

Terracotta men with sad faces. Terracotta men who smelled of dried clay. Thin blue light connected the heavens and the pavement with a resounding—

SLAP! Three quick flashes of blue. She held her check with her reddening hand. Okaa-san stood before her with unfeeling, crimson eyes. Were her eyes like that – during the carnivale? Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. She wanted to scream. She remembered her thoughts back then: '_must scream – or vomit. Or quench my screams with vomit. Either way, she must take pity on me. She must. She must. She must._'

She cried and choked over her words: "Okaa-san."

"You are no longer my burden to carry". The old woman turned around gracefully, unmoved by her daughter. She grew cold but her cheek burned intensely as if it was smitten by devil's fire. She clasped it tightly with her hand. She did not want the burning to go away. _'Don't go. Don't go. Don't leave me.' _She did not want to be deprived of warmth – of okaa-san. 'Don't leave me. Okaa-san, don't leave me.' But okaa-san was gone. She was but a snow crystal wafting through the cold, November air.

-

"We never really got a chance to clear that one up." Convenient distraction proved to be quite effective again. She shunned her thoughts away with her smile.

"Kuga. That night. That whole…what did you ca- Oh, that carnivale thing." Haruka continued with a shrug.

"Posh." She waved her hand in the air as if she were shooing those memories away.

"No. Don't dismiss it."

-

A pause. A streak of greenish light. Haruka's silhouette was bowing to her.

"Gomenasai, Fujino-san."

She swiftly remembered her own sins. _'That's right. I killed Haruka-chan._'

"Kannin na, Suzushiro-san."

They fell silent abruptly and Shizuru scrutinized Haruka in the diminishing glow of transitory neon lights.

"You've changed, Haruka-san."

Haruka simply laughed and shook her head.

"I hate to be a buzz kill, but it's going to rain hard soon and I have to make sure the bank staff does their jobs properly."

"Sure, let's ask for the bill."

Haruka gestured for the bill. They stared at each other with emotionless eyes and they both wondered about what the other was thinking without realizing that they were both wondering and thinking about the same thing.

A bald, male waiter approached them. Before he could place the bill on the table, Haruka said in a commanding tone:"Put it on my tab."

"Suzushiro-san!" Shizuru exclaimed.

"Please, Shizuru. This one is on me."

Confused, the waiter stopped immediately and scanned the two women with an inquiring look.

"Ara! Haruka-"

"No. Put it on my tab." The waiter bowed and took his leave. "Save up for your studies, graduate from Law school with honors, and treat me to Café Elysie in the near future when you're already earning big time. You will. I'm sure you will."

Shizuru could not say no.

"Business is boring without rivals, Shizuru.", Haruka said in an attempt to ease Shizuru's discomfiture.

-

* * *

-

Christ's passion was reenacted on channel 43.

Natsuki continued to practice calligraphy in front of the buzzing television screen. She wasn't Christian. But Christ was more famous than The Boys from Liverpool. Thunder stroke the apartment's tattered, rooftops. The aged building vibrated in response and the lights went on and off for a moment. "H-hey! Someone fix that darned lightning rod! Someone- hey!" She shouted in a whiny voice. The other inhabitants joined in her whining: _'Yeah! Bastard on and offing is pissin' me off!' 'You – Wataru, go fix that.' 'Why me?' 'Because you're a tough guy and because I says so!' 'Nasty rain!'_

'_Good'_, she told herself, _'The big guys will fix it in a jiffy.'_

She wrote the word "judgement" on the center of her notebook's page.

* * *

-

Matalim Pulalon slowly buttoned her black sarong in front of the mirror. It was not yet raining in her side of the town but she could hear the thunder and she could see the quick flashes of neon light from afar.

The air around her smelled of Lemons and coffee flavored pens.

Tomorrow Ken will be buried. After three days, Ken's death will be the talk of the whole campus. He will become an urban legend. A ghost. A legend - His restless spirit will become a rumor, a thing to be feared; haunting the halls of the GAB building.

_On the third day he will rise again._

She licked her fangs and exited her room with much reluctance. She quickly went down the spiral staircase and went out into the winding roads that shifted as her walk progressed. Rail ways traced the urban anatomy of the busy streets like protruding veins. The antiquated traditional Japanese houses that were scattered all over the area were squat and made of strong, dark wood. Their minimalist designs made her miss the flamboyant architecture of the archetypal Filipino house. Tall concrete posts punctured the darkened ground like crucifixes. Broken earthenware was dispersed all over the uncemented area like tiny bits of Ken's brain.

"Stop thinking about shit, damn it!", she cursed aloud and caught the attention of a few, miserable faces.

"What the fuck are you looking at? Never seen a gaijin before?", she howled at them predatorily. They evaded her gaze but she heard their careless whispers. _'Gaijins are so rude.' 'Yes. Indian or Sri Lankan?' 'Malaysian.'_

"I'm more than rude, bitch. I'm a cold blooded murderer." She growled. Her feet took her to narrower streets where the two storey buildings were made of sundried brick. She walked on. Her shadow was her only friend.

-

* * *

-

Shizuru opened her white parasol and clutched her file case tightly.

"Ookini, Suzushiro-san.", Shizuru said with a bow.

Haruka nodded. The sun was out of sight and the city was shrouded by a thin layer of fog. Her eyes were misty with memories. Shizuru spun on her heels and walked away with a smile.

Yes, smiles never left Shizuru Fujino's face. Haruka stood still underneath a golden pavilion. She watched as the white parasol joined the crowd of black colored umbrellas; its owner was a purple flower lost in a sea of chess pieces.

'_Fujino got disowned because of love.',_ She shook her had. _'That can't be right. That's damn wrong.' _She watched on and the grey clouds parted as if they were welcoming some unseen lover into its glazed core. Weak rays light shone from the dark heavens like a dying saint – like the dying Christ.

Her lips trembled upon remembering her shame. She was only there to retrieve the student council's president – not ridicule her. But she – god, my god! she admitted, she admitted! She was bigoted – and she moved Shizuru to madness with her spite, with her words, with her slanderous tongue. She scorned at Fujino because of her identity, because of her love – just like Shizuru's mother.

She watched on until Shizuru was over the bend, beyond the realm of chessmen, marching – dragging her cross on a long, narrow road, while the sun and the blue-green sea met on her head, and the clouds crowned her head with flashes of electric thorns.

-

* * *

-

Natsuki closed her notebook. Robins were perched on the dead tree outside the window, singing elegies for the living.

She watched the scene on the television screen. Christ dragged his cross to Calvary. The roads were winding and uneven, dirty with spit and broken pieces of earthenware, and colorful with his blood and thorn clothes.

-

* * *

Shizuru walked on until she was alone on a lonely road. She was engulfed by a deathly silence and the cold air around her parted like a lost lover to welcome her. The sea before her greeted her with inviting waves that rolled like an execution's audience.

To her far left, there were two motionless police vehicles. Five policemen were dragging a hand-cuffed old man towards the welcoming gates of the condemning vehicle. She struggled against the bonds and trashed with monstrous strength. "Why did you do it?! Why'd you steal?!" One of worn out officers asked the old man as they shoved him into one of the cars.

"I-I thirst!" He replied wretchedly. Shizuru turned away and walked towards the steep roads which were undergoing construction. The soles of her shoes scraped against the terracotta colored mud. She paused between two unlit lampposts and welcomed the dying sun rays with a sad smile. Birds hovered above her like jet planes.

'_I am alone. I have been neglected by my own flesh. Condemned. Marked.' _She shook her head. 'Mother, mother, why have you forsaken me?', she cried weakly into the air while her tears became one with the rain drops.

-

* * *

-

The world is a satyr; growing more sinful with each birth, nearing death with each passing day. Everyone one has been a witness to a crime, everyone one is a victim, everyone is a criminal.

Natsuki opened her notebook. The word judgment was printed on all three pages of the notebook. Identical words – the same judgment.

Christ fell on his knees. The weight of his cross was crushing him. Veronica bent down and wiped the blood and dirt off of her Christ's face with her handkerchief. She spread her handkerchief and—

Christ was there, bleeding and broken.

Three faces of agony. Three faces of Christ – the same judgment.

* * *

The rain began to subside. Haruka trudged like a snail and lost herself in a crowd of monochrome crusaders. The faint light of the sun was vaguely reflected on her damp heads; forming translucent golden crescents.

-

Shizuru was smiling again. The rain was over. She cannot, she will never show her tears and fears to the world. She will never please the angry mob. The waves howl and scowl in disappointment.

'_This is mine. This is my cross to bear.' _

-

Matalim reached the bus stop. She leaned against the "no parking" sign and took the yellow post-it note out of her sarong.

'_Thank you, professor, for enlighteni-'_

It rained down on her.

All the furies of the heaven were upon her; biting her with their icy fangs, drenching her in her own sins, soaking her in guilt. The post it note melted in her hands. _'Just like Ken.'_

-

_

* * *

-  
_

Natsuki watched on. Christ was now on his cross. It was three o' clock: the hour of judgment. Christ squirmed helplessly on his cross. He took in his last puff of mortal air and died.

A centurion slowly walked up to Jesus. He was simply doing his duty. He had nothing against Christ. He swiftly stabbed Christ's side with his spear and holy blood is sprayed on his eye. He staggered for a moment and realized that he could see – HE COULD SEE!

* * *

Haruka turned around and looked at Shizuru.

* * *

The songs of the sirens faded into the air as the police cars left the empty lot. Shizuru was alone again. So alone. _Golgotta_

_

* * *

_

Matalim's head is lowered in defeat. She could not cry. She will never cry. War gods never cry.

* * *

The electricity in the apartment was cut short. Natsuki looked at herself from vanishing glow of the television screen. The room became dimmer, and dimmer, until the only substances that were visible were her face and the white pages of notebook.

"Someone fix that lightning rod!!!" She bellowed and her teeth flashed in the darkness of the room.

Darkness slowly consumed her beauty while the city lost itself in the thin mist. A million scents washed over the city; stripping everyone off of their individual scents. The city was a primordial soup of guilt and sin; breeding, multiplying, GROWING. The air smelled of a thousand incenses lost in space; it tasted like a concoction of different spices. The sky was still dark even though the sun was already out.

This is the aftermath of a crucifixion. Nothing more, nothing less.

-

We are all Longinuses; innocent but nevertheless guilty.

-

-


	8. Chapter 8

**Firefly Down**

**

* * *

**

"_Falseness masquerades as honesty and servile satellites, with abundant beautiful arguments, succeed in covering up violations of right and equality and the people in their blindness accept these arguments and consider them as good. "_

_Jacinto, Emilio. "Liwanag at Dilim"_

Cloistered within this nutshell of a mind

Is a pearl the size of heaven and hell combined.

Here, staircases clutter like vein upon vein

And kingdoms collapse into the ruins of Rein

Today endless, tomorrow deteriorating

Devouring thread by thread, neuron by neuron

until what is left,

curse intellectual theft,

perhaps, somewhere, perhaps.

Dissonance occurs as needles float through some empty space. When gentle winds glide through the thin metal and produce sound after echo of sound. It is neither the intrusion of silence nor the muting of noise. But there is perpetuity to it.

Now in some distant continent, some thin black boy dies of hunger, while somewhere far from salty seas and oil-obscured rivers an obese Caucasian man orders an oversized, over-greased burger in some diner. Perhaps somewhere in Olongapo, a tall man stands stark naked in front of a frail brown girl clutching a crumpled five dollar bill in her hand. The money is not enough – not enough to send her to school, not enough to buy mother's pills or fix father's broken vinta. Somewhere on a beach, on this very fine day, a condom sags from a boy's erect penis. It is not enough; his friends are still getting it on in the shower. He walks towards the vendo machine and buys another condom for five dollars.

An old woman and her son carefully trudge through their rice paddies. A government official is waiting for them. He wipes the perspiration off his face with his right hand. People make less and spend more. By the look on his face she can tell that she has become a stranger in her own land.

Right now, in a class room, an exam is taking place. Only the buzzing of age old electric fans echo through chalk dusted cream walls. Despite the silence, the faces of the students twist. If Picasso is here, will he paint this scene with grim shades of violet and brackish green, dark blue, and painful yellow? Perhaps. For silence does not denote peace.

Somewhere inside the professor's brain she is thinking that the exam is too hard. Should she give off bonus questions? Five or seven should be suffice. But then again, these are senior year Political Science students. There is no better reflection of a professor's greatness than the caliber of his/her student. It would be a crime to let them go into warfare without weapons. She is merciful, but her mercy is split between now and tomorrow: now, they pass, and then they graduate. But tomorrow will they succeed?

RING!

**RING!**

Shizuru picks up her celphone. Mildly annoyed, she answers the caller with a cold: "What is it?".

"H-hello, Shizuru. This is me, Kubukiri."

"I am in the middle of an exam - Proctoring." And all at once the students raise their heads to look at her. Shizuru covers the phone with her hand and instructs in a loud, clear voice: "Continue."

"But I **really, really, really** need your help."

"I can't leave. Look, call someone else. Fujigawa is free right now, so is-"

"No. They can't know about this. You're the only person I can trust. Please. PLEASE, FUJINO! Just this once. Please."

Shizuru exhales audibly. She bites her lip and considers the implications of leaving the classroom in such an untimely manner. The students, exhausted of their exam, had shunned their blue books to observe their professor's mild discomfort. Shizuru is obviously very annoyed, and they whisper to each other: '_maybe its sensei's boyfriend.' 'Oh my! I thought she was single! We're too late, dude.' 'Whoever it is, that guy is in deep shit after class.'_

"Excuse me! I have not left the room yet and you are all still taking your exams. Ms. Mikuzawa, do you want a .25 deduction?"

"No ma'am!", the stout girl shrinks in her seat into a blob of laced fat, and everyone else attempts to feign answering their exams.

"Now, Kubikiri-san.", she asks sternly, "What is the matter?"

"Well, do you remember the research project? The one wherein Professor Abe and his colleagues excavated an important document, the manuscript from the Heian period. Remember that? You see, I've been entrusted by the university to have it carbon dated, and yeah, it's been confirmed to be an actual property of the Fujiwara clan in 801 A.D. Are you still listening?"

"Yes. Unfortunately", Shizuru replies with a sigh.

"So I decided to buy a few things from the mall before dropping off the findings at the DSS department. Parked my car outside the mall because the parking lot was already full. But when I got back with my stuff, the car was…", He falls silent like the students in the room.

"Oh my good god.", Shizuru whispers with a hardly concealed frown. She walks outside the room, takes a deep breath, waits for the crowds to pass and leave her, and then exclaims: "Oh my good god! You lost the manuscript?"

"I got jacked!", Kubikiri cries like an orphaned cub "I guess the thief mistook the manuscript for a briefcase filled with money. He took off with the manuscript. I don't know what to do."

"Doesn't that place have a surveillance camera? Security guards? No witnesses?"

"No. No nothing. I don't know what do. Please help me! Please!"

"You lost Fujiwara's manuscript. Oh! Kubikiri! How could you be so careless! You should have dropped it off here first! A document that important should-"

"Oh give me a break! Do you wake up every morning expecting to be car-napped?"

"No. But I consider the possibility of it!" Then realizing that she sounded a bit paranoid, she defended: "And I don't have a car."

"Can you not argue right now? Please, just now. Just help me."

It is during moments like this that people are given the opportunity to be god for a minute. Some consideration is lost in a sea of rational explanations. Silent is the mouth, and yet screaming are the thoughts.

Here it is sunny. In Greece, the Mediterranean Sea lashes at the fair sands with its foamy mouth. Perhaps somewhere, near some Grecian island of ionic pillars and forgotten deities, a photographer carefully stands near a blossoming Poppy. He is waiting for just the right moment to click the camera and capture the full bursting of life into a frame. Soaring above him is a plane. It catches the sun on its wings, soars at an impossible angle, shatters like a dead soldier's brain, and in a puff of purple smoke, explodes.

But Lo and Behold! There, like a meteor descending from the darkness of the explosion, a woman falls head first. She flaps her hands as seagulls mock her with their trumpet-voices. Her world is upside down – the clouds on her feet, the sea her sky. She edges the cliff and sees the photographer. His back is facing her, but she is still jubilant to see him. She opens her mouth. But –ah! The fall faster than the mind, the mouth dry from fear, she falls down, down, down, and the scream follows her down, down, down to drown beneath the waves.

But he hears her as she disappears into the reddening foam. He turns around, turns away from the bud while she falls secretly, operatically. He looks for her, but he cannot see her. He looks out to the sun, but she is already one with the waves. She closes her eyes as salt water splashes unto her face. But the tastes, the tastes, the tastes! – the full flavor of death smashes unto her face – the salt of the sea, the bitterness of her blood, the silky creaminess of her own brain, the sourness of the rocks. Now pouring from her nose are fragments of her body and her spirit. As her entire cranium is split open by the fall, as she relishes the full flavor of death,

the flower blooms.

_**Blooms. **_

**Blooms. **

And the photographer misses the shot.

Shizuru puts on her coat. Her heels click loudly against the marble floor of the hall as she makes her way past room after room. In her haste, she accidentally bumps into a student. She is shaken, but she recovers immediately. The student picks up her fallen notebooks; her hair and face: a glimpse of a perfect winter solstice, and yet her eyes bear the viridian, youthful happiness of spring.

"What's with the hurry, professor?"

Shizuru is relieved. It is only Natsuki.

"Something came up. I'll tell you about it later.", their hands touch faintly as Shizuru walks towards the stairs.

"Do you need travelling gear?" Natsuki asks as she plays with her motorcycle's keys.

Shizuru stops in her tracks, flips her hair and says in a cold tone:

"Go back to your class, Miss Kuga."

"Sheesh" Natsuki shakes her head and walks towards her classroom. In her annoyance, she does not realize that she had bumped into someone. The person staggers and frowns as he watches his notes fall on the ground.

"My, my, you're pretty rude for such a pretty face."

Natsuki does not turn around, but she replies in a sharp tone: "Watch it."

She is in a hurry. Exams start in a few hours and still had a few chapters to study. As ubiquitous as oxygen are the crowds. The little theater down the hallway should do. No one hangs around that place. She gathers her notes in a bundle and whistles away from the locker room.

* * *

-

Wry, dry, dusty with neglect are the walls of some old auditorium. Sometime long ago, it had been the pinnacle of classical architecture; a masterpiece of a national artist. But now it misses the cheers, the applauses, the raising of top hats, and the toasting of wine glasses. It has become a coliseum without gladiators, with seats reserved for any nameless audience. No longer do ballerinas prance gaily on its stage; only the shadows of some broken window remain. Here, Natsuki sits, flipping through her notes, peering from the darkness like some watchful owl. Rare are visitors, even rare are friends. Her tongue feels stuck on her jaw. She gulps and gulps down, expecting the strong muscle to glide down her throat like water. She searches her bag for some relief – mint, water, anything edible will do, she supposes.

An arm-less hand sticks out from the darkness behind her.

She is too caught between cough and perspiration to mind the obscurity of it all, so Natsuki takes the candy lozenge from the hand without hesitation and devours it, like Adam and Eve's apple.

"Gee, Thanks. I thought I would cough out my liver back there" Relieved, she looks behind her.

Picture this. Girls: angel-faced, dressed in dark tuxedos. There are two of them. The one who handed her the lozenge is shorter, but her features are sharper; the brows thick, the jaw sturdy, the hair tied back into a pony tail. The other one is more relaxed; her features nymph-like, her prettiness humble, but her hair is a bold mullet died dark red and violet.

"Hello."

"Hello.", Natsuki greets back.

"Shoo."

She complies, either from gratitude or from surprise. She walks out, flushing from embarrassment. How uncharacteristic of her, she thinks. Treacherous are the natural instincts indeed! She had looked like a coward. Oh how Natsuki grits her teeth at this thought. A lily-livered coward. She pauses in front of the large wooden door of the theatre.

To be or not to be; that is the question.

To be. Should she March back and claim back some crumbled, dignity. Or crawl back to some totem and pray, pray, pray, that they don't know her by her name, voice, or face. And how strange, how queer, how brightly, ghastly a betrayal it was of the senses to cower away when it she who often assumed the role of victor over some skirmish of taunts or stares.

Now decided, she leans on the door, preparing to open it. But suddenly she accidentally takes a look at her wristwatch and realizes that she had murdered two minutes of her time in all her pondering. Two minutes is too long a rest for sweet vengeance. And biting her knuckles and her pride, she decides to just leave the scene.

So simple was this event, that it left such an impact on Natsuki. It was indeed an instinctive act. Yet why? She had always thought that her mind lords over her instincts, that the scars of the previous wars have long been imbedded in her soul, that retreat had long been erased from her list of options, that she had seen everything, faced every unthinkable foe, that no man or beast poses a threat to her.

And yet here she is; making her way towards the cafeteria, mingling with crowds, passing familiar faces and shrugging off high-fives in an attempt to reclaim some pride she feels she had lost.

"Knock it off. Everybody has to lose someday.", she says to herself as she sits down in some lonely table and opens her thick Chemistry book.

"Because we are all subject to some rule of nature.", she cannot help overhearing the young girl behind her. She silently agrees and curses this fact.

So little a dispute; and yet in its multiplication, it forms a galaxy. Stillness is a lie. If disputes – internal and shared – could pour out of skulls and condense themselves into some physical form – like matter. Like man: With shape, with form concrete. Apparent, yet in disarray. Should it rise, it would bury all the earth, and like an over-boiled egg, break out into space.

His mind is Rorschach blot. He cannot make heads or tails out of his thoughts. There is point in A, there is point in B. He cannot tell which weighs more: the sky or the sea. As this fisherman attaches his bait to his hook, he stares at the wriggling worm embracing his thumb. The horizon seems to devour him in his littleness. Great is the sea, yet gentle the waves that careen his boat. Clouds lean on one another, forming in his vision: a crocodile's perfect set of teeth. Now the waves below, jagged and with curled, seemingly razor sharp edges, perfectly form its lower jaw. Opening wide is the crocodile's mouth, with him feeling littler, and the worm almost microscopic in his thumb.

Up in the mountains, some rebel group, tired of their hike, rests beneath the mighty shades of tropical trees. Replacing the warmth of women, are the coldness of their rifles. And yet they cradle them, and lean on the deadly steels, like demons leaning on their Arctic wings. A hostage, thin and yet in repose, kneels before his captor, a young man, possibly decades younger and dumber than him.

All he feels is hunger. Tired is he of despair. In his homeland, his wife had begged him to reconsider, but cross and conviction prevailed.

Now his mind is in contradiction: To the right, some mirror image of himself as Gandhi sits on amidst seven million copies of himself as his captor.

Some of this will be printed in the news; yet common sorrows go on unheard. Silently, we suffer, yet to whom do we protest? To some god?

God.

The devil.

Whom we all fashion to take the blame. For we deafen ourselves with our own voice. One man cannot be a choir of many.

* * *

-

"Okay, buddy. We'll call you once we find your lost baby. But for now, I suggest you and the missus go out and relax."

"We're not married. We're not in a relationship at all.", Shizuru corrects the policeman. Kubikiri had been reduced to a shrunken, weeping child the moment the policeman asked him to retell his story 'in exact detail, sir.'

The policeman eyes Shizuru with a polite smile. "Well, I'm sorry, miss. But, you better keep your friend some company. He doesn't look alright at all."

"Oh! How can I be alright?", Kubikiri bellowed. Everyone at the station turned to look at him. "I'm ruined! I lost something more important than my own life!"

"Cheer up, son.", the middle-aged policeman said as he reached out to pat the pathetic man seating in front of his desk. "There's a therapy session three blocks from here, down by Yoko Avenue. It's run by a charity. There's someone like you there but he had it worse. He lost _his _to a mechanical cow."

"It's not that!"

"Officer, please. Isn't there anything else that you can do?" , Shizuru asks as her eyes become as dreamy as a doll's. Perhaps some female persuasion will work, she thinks to herself.

"No. Right now, with all these lack of evidence and witnesses. No. I'm sorry. But we'll keep working on it. Everyday, we pick up about twelve of em' lockpicks on Yagyu road alone. Who knows? Maybe, we'll meet up with your assailant tonight at one of our great city's roads, avenues, parks. Wherever. It's a big place, miss. These things, you know. They – they take time."

Shizuru understands. Kubikri does not. The policeman escorts them outside the station. He bids her farewell, and she guides him away from isolated lovers and inanimate lampposts. He is too blinded by his tears. His snot hangs like an icicle on his nose. She begins to think that they do look like lovers on this unaffectionate afternoon of clouds and white benches. She takes him for a stroll at the park; to keep his mind busy for a while she talks. On and on, a sea of rhetoric pours of her mouth as skillfully as a prophet. He responds to her, but his speech is limited. _'Well at least he actually responds to me, this old boob.'._

"Let's sit down here for a while"

"Okay."

The sun is absent. And in his absence, the clouds celebrate. Today they do not have to revolve or be outshined by some star. They are thick and puffy, sprawled all over the sky like children at play.

"Fujino, thank you."

"It's nothing. You would've done the same for me."

"No, I would not have."

Shizuru pauses, quite stunned by the reply. She laughs at his sarcasm and relaxes in her seat. The bench is newly painted white. It's as if they are sitting among the clouds.

"Well, now you'll have to. You owe me one, Kaede."

"Yes, unfortunately I do.", he grumbles. Shizuru's irritation returned at this point and she spat back:

"Try to mask your ungratefulness with misery. Whining and taking out your frustration on someone else isn't going to help at all. You might as well just keep quite if you're in a pathetic state of helplessness and you can't even feign humbleness.

"Why should I? You couldn't even help me find the car."

"What can I do? Sniff the asphalt like some dog and then cut those thieves in half with some huge, bloody weapon? Be realistic, Kaede."

"Of course not, you can't do that!"

'_Actually I can', _Shizuru silently answers. She grumpily kicks at a pebble on her feet. Kubikiri begins to cry again.

"I'm sorry, Fujino. I'm just so troubled right now."

But rather than feel any sympathy for her coworker, Shizuru felt completely empty, completely devoid of empathy. She tries her best to prevent herself from saying anything that might hurt Kubikiri.

"Do you pray, Kubikiri? Do you go to the temples to praise the gods?"

"When I have time."

Shizuru laughs. "And yet we expect the gods to have all the time for us. Your car is still out there. Some lucky guy is driving it around somewhere, perhaps in streets you also drive through everyday. Do you weigh the possibility of accidents whenever you get up from your bed?"

"No."

"You should. Starting tomorrow, you should. I always do."

Kubikiri's brows crease in confusion. Eavesdropping among twigs and leaves are a few raindrops. The weather is fine. A gentle breeze floats about, delivering prayers from distant lands to a nearby shrine.

* * *

-

Back in the university, Natsuki fidgets in her seat (as usual). With her red marker, she scribbles Shizuru's name on the wall to her left. The classroom stinks of Sophomores who had rushed to their next class right after gym class. An old professor walks up to the blackboard and writes the word "evil" on the green, scraped surface. The old man smiles at the sweaty crowd of student who are all dressed in their maroon and white P.E. uniforms and asks: "Was Mussolini?"

The students echo: "Yes."

The old professor chuckles. "Mussolini returned from war, tired, wanting and expecting the love and adoration of the people who loved and fought for, to find a society that hated them. Now, were the people evil?"

A boy braves and replies: "No, but they were ungrateful."

"Musolini was…well, he was hurt. Now, when World War II ended, the Allied nations: America, France, and Britain, they all thought that they were entitled to the spoils of war. They felt that the world owed them, and that it was their right to claim ownership over many developing countries. China, Indonesia, Philippines, Algeria. The list goes on."

The wooden door creaks and two students enter with heavy footsteps. Natsuki recognizes them.

"Bastards." She curses under her breath. For it is the two girls in bold tuxedos. They apologize to the professor and take their seats – right next to Natsuki.

"Moving on, Italy and even us, Japan…we thought that it was unfair. Why should they have all the fun? We participated equally in the war. We had our fair share of casualties and debts. Why should we be barred from invading other nations? The Brits have China and India, the Americans have the Philippines, the French had Africa, the Brits also had some parts of Africa. Why not us? Why can't we?"

The girl with the mullet taps Natsuki's shoulder with her pen. Natsuki shrugs of the unwelcomed gesture, but the girl is persistent. Natsuki hisses and angrily eyes her enemy.

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Good. Healthy lungs right there."

"What is your fucking problem, miss?", Natsuki asks. She is surprised to learn that the girl's partner, the one in the pony tail, is busily taking down notes and looking as obedient as a lamp.

"How would you like to join our Organization?"

"After that warm greeting you gave me back at the Theater? Hell no."

"Do you even know who we are?"

"I don't care, I don't want to know."

Nevertheless, the girl slips a calling card between Natsuki's open notebook. She winks at Natsuki coolly before presuming her note-taking.

The professor walks towards the center of the room, eyes the students, and asks in a voice calmer than river water: "Were we evil?"

One of the girls in the tuxedos raises her hand. The fiercer looking one. The professor instantly recognizes her. He calls her by some ridiculous pet name which Natsuki laughs at. She refrains from minding Natsuki and answers the question in her deep voice: "Yes."

"No, we were not. But we were wrong.", one of the sophomores counters.

The young girl snaps: "After our soldiers raped, looted, and massacred countless civilians?"

"Appalling information, isn't it?", the professor tells the students with a dry smile. "Mimi, take it easy on the kid. They haven't taken their POLSCI178 yet.

"They would've done the same to us.", a young girl answers back.

"Are you talking about the Americans or the Chinese and the South East Asians? Yeah, yeah, sure sure," she fakes a Sicilian accent and twists her mouth ala-Al Capone, "A lot of damn G.I's were sent home in matchboxes, especially those would be imperialists in pearl-harbor, but really, they weren't the real victims."

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Sit down, Mimi."

Natsuki reads the card, careful not to be noticed by her seatmate. 'JOIN THE FIGHT FOR TRUE WOMEN'S EMANCIPATION. STAND TALL WITH YOUR SISTERS IN THE STRUGGLE.'

"When its our side doing it, its never evil, no?" the professor asks with a sad smile.

* * *

It is night. The neon lights of some disco float in the air like alien spaceships preparing to land. Shizuru is dizzy from the scent of sweat and beer. She had busied herself by shunning away drunken men who were dying to get into her pants and is overdosed in cheap tea and ramen. She hits her head on the comfort room's tiles as she tries to chase away the lustful sounds coming from one of the stalls. She cannot pee under this conditions, she says to herself as she drags her heels out of the room and into the crazy disco floor where everyone was beautiful in a minute and then monstrous in a second. The color of the lights are painful: yellow, green, and neon pink.

"Kaede? Kaede where are you?"

"Hey pretty," a face splashes out of the waves of anthropomorphic shadows, "let's dance, come on. Let's see you shake those hips."

Lights work like magic. She studies his changing features under the changing lights. In green, he looked like Paul Newman, in pink, he was an oni mask, in yellow he looked like plastic.

"I'm married.", she whisks him off. She can hear him say something about how sexy her accent is. She makes her way through the crowd as her senses are flooded by the sour taste of sweat and the bitterness of beer. She wants to vomit, but abstains from doing so by holding her breath.

"H-hey! Shizuruuuuu!", Kubikiri waves at her from one of the round tables near the exit. He is drunk. Punch-bole umbrellas are stuck on his kinky hair like curlers and ketchup and some other brown stain is smothered all over his orange polo-shirt.

"We're leaving."

"Oh come on, I want you to meet this guys. This is Haraguchi, this is Masato, this is-"

"NOW".

"Okay, okay," he stands up swaggering. Shizuru steadies him and drags him outside.

The bouncer looks at them with a curious look. She walks him towards an empty road and they wait for a cab underneath a lamp post.

"You, sir, are despicable. My opinion regarding you has changed in one night."

"Oh shit, you know. It's not like I lose a car and a historical manuscript everyday so give me a damn break."

"Drinking doesn't solve anything! If you were sober you could've planned an apology or some pathetic explanation for the department tomorrow."

"I was too depressed to even think!"

"You didn't even try to think, you did your best to keep your depression! You don't wallow in depression, you break away from it, god damn it!"

Kubikiri is taken back by the harshness of Shizuru's words and tone. He is suddenly sober again. He cleans his glasses with his filthy neck tie and remains quiet for the rest of the night.

The night is quiet afterall. No hearbroken lover sings to the moon on this lonely night, nor does anyone hear the silent cries of some man drowning in a nameless sea. No one hears the cries of prostitutes in Subic. They're filthy women, nothing more, but everything less. Everyone agrees.

There are some lights that are more pleasing than the moon, fiercer than the sun, and wider than the sea. But be fooled not that such lights are as humble as that of a firefly's, and that all darkness is dim.

* * *

It is morning.

Enter the birds. Now rises the sun. Now the city awakes: go forth cabs, people, busy now, busy there. Somewhere among the shadows of the little theater, an audience of three is present.

"A lie told often enough becomes the truth. Lenin once said this", Mimi explains to Natsuki, who now views her in a different, friendlier light.

"Then there is not certain reality?"

"There is."

"I'm sorry if I'm slow. This is all just…too much "The Matrix trilogy"

"Reality can easily be obscured. I mean, some people would say: oh yeah, North Korea is a fucking evil nest of crazy communists with nuclear shits. While the other side of the argument would say: No, they have a right to defend themselves, they've not evil. And Kim makes fucking awesome movies."

Natsuki laughs.

"Sorry. Sorry if I explain things in such a brash manner."

"Dude, its cool."

The girl in the mullet walks up to them and hands them tetra-packed drinks.

"So, how is she?"

"Quite receptive, actually.", Mimi replies as she takes a sip of cold fruit juice.

"Oh, Natsuki, by the way, this is Chancey. Chancey, you know who you're talking to, right?"

"Of course. We were classmates in NATSCI1 and NATSCI 2."

"We were?", Natsuki is surprised.

"Enough memories for now," Mimi butts in. Chancey pinches her left cheek and she groans in pain. She pushes her giggling friend away and cradles her left cheek as she continues: "You see, Natsuki, for one to be a legitimate hegemony, one must have monopoly over sources of knowledge. That way, people won't even realize that you're already dominating them. They'll just bow their heads and accept the fact that they're worms beneath your fit."

"Fuck the media, man. Fuck the media.", Chancey says as she raises a dirty finger in the air.

"Amen to that.", Natsuki responds with a nod.

"Yeah. I mean, everyone here accepts the fact that sex should be experienced by everyone and thinks this is 'free thinking', liberation from some intellectual slavery. Love motels everywear, condoms, pills sit right next to Pocky in Seven Eleven, alongside those hentai dvd's and pc games, and look at what we have! A declining population."

"You're a conservative?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well…regarding some issues, yeah."

"It depends on how you use it and define the word, Natsuki."

Natsuki is silent.

"Dis-fucking-pa-fucking-ri-fucking-ty!", Chansey beings to sing as her fruit juice spills on her hand like a bursting bladder.

"Hey, Ansey, don't curse to much. It ain't pleasant to the ears. More like fingernails on the damn blackboard."

"So what do you call yourself?", Natsuki asks Mimi with a questioning look.

"Well…", she thinks for a few seconds and there bursts out laughing, "Mimi!"

"No, I - darn you sarcastic bitches."

They all laugh.

"I mean", Natsuki continues as she cradles her lab manual and attempts to regain her composure, "I mean, what labels? Are you a feminist? A Marxist? That shit. Equalitarian?"

Mimi looks at her with a kind smile before saying: "You know, I have it when everything has to be segregated into what it is what it's not. I mean, yeah, alright. Whatever. I'm a conservative even though I'm all for gay marriage and Indigenous People's Rights. And that's contrary to conservative thought, right? I guess you can say that I'm pretty platonic. I'm straight-laced when it comes to issues towards sex, and yes, that is conservative indeed! And you know how much Americans hate communists? Because its undemocratic? When in fact, Communism is democratic in a lot of aspects. Are you getting what I'm saying?"

"It's like the war on terror," Chansey adds, "You're with us or you're against us. If you're not, then you're a terrorist. Then again, what is a terrorist?"

Natsuki remains silent in thought up to her chemistry class.

* * *

"Fujino?"

"Yes?"

"The dean wants to see you."

'This better not be about Kubikiri', Shizuru tells herself as she nervously walks towards the dean's office, located two floors beneath the DSS faculty.

Unsurprisingly, as she swings open the old western style door, she finds Kubikiri playing with his thumbs in his seat. She fakes a smile and bows courteously before the dean. He offers her a seat and she gracefully obliges.

"Now, Professor Fujino, Professor Kubikiri here has just disclosed some very vital information about the Fujiwara Project which the National Museum has oh so generously funded for us. I believe, Fujino, that you have something very important to tell me. A missing piece, perhaps. Something that can help me get that very sharp stone out of my shoe."

"Information about what exactly, sir?"

"Well, aren't you supposed to know that?"

"I don't think so sir. I'm not aware – I was never involved in this project, sir."

The dean eyes Kubikiri stoically. He gets up from his arm chair and walks towards Shizuru. Shizuru avoids his eyes and bows her head slightly to show her respect.

"I'll be precise. About the whereabouts of the manuscript?"

Shizuru gulps down some lump on her throat and explains: "It would be wrong to say Kubikiri lost the manuscript. It would be wrong to accuse him of irresponsibility and any other condemnable and punishable act, sir. But the manuscript has been lost, along with Kubikiri's car. It was an unexpected accident. It was unpredictable, and Kubikiri had been cautious with his actions. The reason for its lost is petty theft. Nothing more, sir. It is something that Kubikiri could not have avoided given the situation he found himself in."

"And that situation is?"

"I brought a new USB for my new presentations and I had to buy a few groceries for my wife, sir."

"And why didn't you tell me this? So that we could've pressured police into finding this culprit? Why, I could've used my authority over them."

Silence.

"Human nature, sir."

"What was that, Professor Kubikiri?"

"We tried to fix it on our, sir."

"You two are just like children.", the dean says in disgust. His neat beard ruffles in his frown.

"Professor Kubukiri, be prepared to clean up your desk anytime in October. And you, Professor Fujino. You know we had our eyes set on you as next department chair."

Shizuru's eyes widen in shock.

"But you've disappointed me greatly. You may go."

Perhaps somewhere in an empty space, some unknown life form begins to take form. Its tiny head rears out of its tiny spine, and not even the wind can feel its presence. And yet when the sleepy beggar snores on this sunny afternoon of silent suffering and unheard disparities, he sucks the life form in and it dies without evolving into the first stage of a complex being.

Perhaps somewhere in Mexico, some ancient god takes form and blood and flesh. His spirit congests. His eyes begin to see with mortal eyes. And just as he first feels how soft the sand is and how prickling the seashells are with his feet, he is shot down by border police. And he dies, without a chance of resurrection.

Shizuru slumps into her office chair. Kubikiri does not even dare to show his face. He has logged out and has decided to take the day off while Shizuru wallows in misery. What a change of roles indeed.

The department secretary turns on the little television. She scans the channels and decides to settle for the late afternoon news in channel 2. A pretty news reporter is seen rushing towards some junk yard behind some bowling alley. The camera is shakey.

"This just came in! officials are after three runaway car-nappers who have gone of a killing spree in Yamaguchi road. They have slaughtered five innocent police men and three traffic police enforcers for reasons we are still unsure of."

RING!

**RING!**

Shizuru picks up her celphone unenthusiastically: "hello?"

"Hello, miss? This is officer Monfuya. I have news about your missing car. Plate number 595-"

"Hello, Yes? You found it?"

"Yes, miss."

"Oh thank god. Thank god. Where is it? Where can we claim it?"

"We're...we're chasing it right now?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh! Isn't that Kubikiri's car?", a professor asks as he peeks from his desk.

Indeed, there on the screen is Kubikiri's car; hitting aluminum trashcans with such a force that the news crew chasing it is almost hit, and the police men began to fire at its wheels. Shizuru watches with her mouth wide open as one of the culprits sticks out an automatic and begins firing back at the authorities.

"You'll never catch us alive, DIRTY COPS!"

Hellish shots rings through the air. Shizuru wants to stop watching. But she cant. There is this hope within her. Hope that the manuscript will be reclaimed, that the thieves would surrender or be shot down – whatever. Just get the manuscript and her promotion back.

The car screeches to a halt. Police cars surround it. Someone begins to shout: "We have surrounded you! You have nowhere to run! You have nowhere to run! Surrender now! Get out of the vehicle and put your weapons down on the floor! Get out of the vehicle!"

All three thieves exit the car, pistol and ammunition in their hands and bullet proof vested. The leader, a scarred, ragged man with whose eyes shone with strange luminance, turns to the camera. He opens his mouth. Hatred is painted all over his face. Picasso would've loved him as a subject. He could've perhaps been immortalized in 'Ginormica'.

"That thing turned on?", he asks in a voice thick with spite and spit, "There ain't no real justice in this world, you hear me. There ain't no real good people. My sister and my wife was raped by British G.I.'s, and the government didn't do shit for us. Worst, we heard you fucking cops helped them clean up."

"Be careful! You who are watching this! This world is filled with false prophets - The best of them.", a man in a dark mask adds as he applies pressure on the bullet wounds on his shoulder.

"Put down your guns and step away from the car! I repeat! Put down-"

"You'll never take us alive!", and suddenly, the leader takes out two grenades from his vest, pulls the pins with this teeth as all three of them lunge back towards the car and huddle in a motherly embrace.

**KABOOOM**

**..**

**.**

**Perhaps, some god bows down to hear our cry.**

_And he listens as keenly as a priest hears a confession._

**But he cries, stumbles over a puff of cloud, when he realizes,**

_the thunders and wars that flash through earth and altar have rendered him as deaf as death._

The world applauds as everything goes down like a firefly being devoured by his own fire. And the irony of all ironies is that we all don't mind! because life, my god, life afterall, is perfect!


End file.
